


MacDalton Snippets

by Kerkerian



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Bathtub, Birthday Fluff, Caring Jack, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Groping, Harassment, Hospital, Hurt Jack, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Dalton lives, Lots of equipment, M/M, Not a single frying pan died for this story, Romance, Snow, Team as Family, divergence from canon, injuries, macdalton, proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: I love snippets, obviously, and since the muse kept nudging me, I decided to turn this one into a collection of short stories/scenes. They are not necessarily in a consecutive order. Some are episode tags.Oh, and since these are all MacDalton, there's a LOT of cuddling.
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 234





	1. Timers + Chef + Home

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I don't own MacGyver.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Sometimes though, the heart has already been taken care of already...

“Whaaaaat is going on in here?”

Jack, who had just come in, closed the door to his apartment and looked around the kitchen: Mac was busying himself at the stove. And every other available surface. And things were _ticking_.

Mac glanced over his shoulder: “What's it look like?” he said, his tone the equivalent of an eye-roll.

Jack put down his overnight bag, walked over to Mac and wrapped his arms around him from behind, gently scratching the soft skin of his neck with his stubble in a way that made his partner shiver ever so delicately: “Hi,” he said, pressing a kiss just underneath Mac's ear. “It _looks_ like you've finally gone mad and are planning on seizing world domination. I'mma say you're doing something slightly less risky, like cooking unsupervised, but it might be the jet lag...”

“Very funny,” Mac grumbled, leaning into the embrace a little but keeping his focus on what he was doing. “'I've got it all under control. I told Bozer what I had in mind, and he wrote down every single step and how to prepare the ingredients beforehand to avoid chaos. And I've brought a few timers, which is a great idea-”

Jack grinned: “A _few_?” There were timers everywhere, that's why the whole kitchen area was ticking.

“Well... 14,” Mac conceded. “One for the Ricotta melt, one for the zucchini blossoms, two for the roasted vegetables so I'll remember when to flip them over, one-”

Jack interrupted him: “You're cooking Italian for me?” he asked softly, his chin on Mac's shoulder: the sauce Mac was stirring in the pan was smelling heavenly, as was everything else. Jack was so touched that he could barely speak.

“When we were in Rome last week, you complained all the way back home because we didn't go and have dinner at that restaurant you kept talking about.” Mac shrugged: “So I thought... It's not comparable with genuine Italian five star cuisine, of course.”

Jack let go of him just enough so he could turn Mac around in his arms: “You kiddin' me?” he asked in a low voice, regarding the other. “I'll take this over any five star grub any time, darling.” Gently, he nuzzled Mac's nose with his own: “You're amazing. And I missed you.”

They kissed, slow and gentle, but then Mac pulled back: “I'm sorry,” he muttered against Jack's lips, “I missed you too, but I really don't want to burn this.”

Jack stole one more kiss: “Do you need any help?” he asked.

“No,” Mac looked a little sheepish. “It was actually supposed to be done by the time you got back, but I was held up and started too late.”

“It's still easily the best surprise I've ever gotten,” Jack said, beaming at him. A blush crept up Mac's neck as he turned back to the stove; sometimes, he was shy like that, but it was obvious that he was pleased.

By the time Jack had showered, changed into fresh clothes and unpacked, dinner was ready.

“So,” Mac said once he had put the last dish on the table and sat down himself while Jack was opening the bottle of wine he'd brought (Bozer's choice), “for my mental sanity- if you don't like it, just pretend it's the best you've ever eaten, okay?”

“I'll try,” Jack promised. “But if you've accidentally confused the salt with arsenic, I'll come back as a poltergeist and haunt you.”

“I'm not going to poison you,” Mac said in a long-suffering tone.

Jack took out his phone: “I'mma take a picture,” he said. “For evidence.”

“What's that worth if you're dead?”

“Sending it to Bozer now,” Jack smiled sunnily and put the phone down. “Seriously, hoss, this looks and smells fantastic.”

“Okay,” Mac still seemed sceptical. “Tuck in, then.”

Jack raised his wine glass: “In a sec. First: a toast.” His smile turned more serious: “Thank you for making such an effort for me, Mac,” he said quietly. “I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Mac muttered something about not blowing it out of proportion and that nobody had died, after all, but he smiled back as they clinked their glasses: “I love doing things for you,” he replied softly. “It's... a good way to compensate for all the crazy that's going on in our lives.”

“Which we love,” Jack stated, but he regarded Mac carefully as he did so. He couldn't help it, he sometimes worried about the guy. The corners of Mac's mouth quirked up at that: “Yeah, we do,” he said, and it sounded honest, to Jack's relief. Because if Mac even had the slightest doubt, they'd both have to find new jobs, together.

Mac met Jack's gaze: “I wouldn't want to do anything else,” he said. “It's just a bit much, sometimes. So... I'm glad I've got you.” He paused, visibly considering what he'd just said: “I'm glad I've got a home with you, to be precise,” he then corrected himself.

Jack's eyes were getting a bit moist at that. He put his wine down, got up again, pulled Mac to his feet and hugged him tightly: “Ditto,” he said softly. “You got no idea, kiddo. And what you just said... it's basically what I meant earlier, but you put it better.”

“That's okay,” Mac murmured, his breath warm and moist on Jack's skin. “I understood.”

Jack didn't have to pretend at all: the food was really good, and they took their time enjoying it. Later, once they had put away the leftovers and cleaned the kitchen, Jack gathered all the kitchen timers: “Do you need these at home, or can we keep them here?”

Mac shrugged: “Keep them here, if you like. Why?”

“Well, now that I know what you are capable of without blowing anything up...” Jack grinned. “I could get used to this.”

“It won't be special if I do it all the time,” Mac said. “Also, it's been surprisingly nerve-wrecking. I think I'll need a while to recover.”

“Come here, professor.” Jack wrapped his arms around him once more and kissed him: “I love you, you know that, right?”

Instead of a verbal answer, Mac kissed him back.

“So, dinner was a success?” Bozer asked Jack a few days later, after making sure Mac was out of earshot.

“It. Was. _Awe_ some!” Jack said. “Thank you for helping our boy with it, he was really proud that he pulled it off.”

Bozer waved his hand dismissively: “It's nothing,” he said. “I just nudged him into the right direction.”

“Riley said the nudging took three days and a test run on the zucchini blossoms,” Jack replied.

Bozer grinned: “Yeah, but that was actually for our mutual benefit, because I got to be chief taster.”

Jack shook his head: “We'll make a chef out of him yet.”

“I don't know about that,” Bozer said, “but I'll be happy as long as he stops burning stuff. Almost gives me a heart attack every time the fire detector goes off!”

Mac came in: “Matty wants us in the war room.” He paused, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “What are you talking about?”

Jack and Bozer answered simultaneously: “Football.” “Tsunamis.”

Mac frowned: “ _O_ -kay? You sure it wasn't something else? Like me managing not to burn down the kitchen last week?”

Bozer shook his head: “Man, you're _obsessed_ with cooking lately,” he just said airily, taking off his lab coat. “You said Matty's waiting?” With that, he sauntered out of the room.

Jack grinned: “So what if we're proud of you? In fact, I'd give you _all_ the stars, if I could.”

“I'll never cook again if everyone's making such a big deal out of it,” Mac muttered, turning towards the door. Jack caught him by his arm: “No, wait,” he said, pulling Mac close. “Please do. I promise we'll stop talking about it.”

“You better,” Mac replied, “because I'd actually really like to try my luck with Reese's gumbo one day.”

Jack mimicked zipping his mouth shut at that.

Mac flashed him a grin: “Sure that's wise?”

“Mm _mh_ ,” Jack made, shrugging, then kissing him. “Mmh?”

“Yeah, alright,” Mac laughed quietly. “Come on, Matty's waiting.”

“I _am_ allowed to talk if it's not about your cooking, right?” Jack asked on their way up the stairs.

“Right.”

“What about ingredients?”

“What about them?”

“Am I allowed to ask about secrets?”

“I don't think I'm quite there yet.”

“You gonna tell me your secrets once you are?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“What did I just say about never cooking again?”

“Okay, I hear you. Shutting up now.”

“Good. And make sure to tell your friends.”

“Oh, they're _my_ friends now, are they?”

They bantered all the way to the war room, where the rest of the team had already gathered.

During the briefing, Jack glanced at Mac a few times, unable to stop himself from smiling just so with his eyes.

Mac smiled back every time.


	2. Birthday + Jack Dalton Appreciation Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation in the dark. Set about two months after Jack has come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: tooth-rotting fluff!

Jack was smiling. It was mostly dark in the room, but the digital alarm clock told him it was midnight, so he shifted a little, never relinquishing his hold around his partner, who was sleeping soundly, and gently rubbed his jaw along Mac's, tickling him with his stubble in a delicate way. At first, nothing happened, then Mac's breathing hitched ever so subtly, and he moved a little: “'s up?”

His voice was sleep-soft and gravelly, making him sound adorably drowsy. Jack pressed a kiss on his cheek: “Just wanted to be the first to congratulate you,” he said quietly. “So... happy thirtieth birthday, darlin'. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Slowly, Mac turned around in his arms so they were facing each other; he couldn't really make out Jack's expression because they had turned off the neon sign over the bed, but he could hear Jack's smile, and he could feel it too when he reached for his face, running his hand over it as if making sure it wasn't a dream and he really was awake and Jack was really there.

“Thank you,” he murmured, running the tip of his fingers along Jack's eye, his brow, and over his ear. His hand then stilled, fingers splayed in Jack's short hair, and the latter hummed quietly, nuzzling Mac's nose with his own: “I love you so much,” he muttered softly. “ _So_ much, you got no idea.”

Mac exhaled somewhat tremulously: “Wrong,” he replied, barely audible. “I think I got a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah?” Jack sounded almost timid. He had come back from hunting down Kovacs a mere two months ago, and it still haunted him at times, this absence and everything that happened while he was away, making him insecure, as if he had forfeited his right to be as important to Mac as before. Which was breaking Mac's heart, because he knew that Jack hadn't left for selfish reasons, and the past two years hadn't exactly been a walk in the park for either of them.

“'Course,” he therefore replied. “Never had any reason to doubt you.”

At that, Jack let out a relieved little laugh, and Mac shimmied until he was so close that their bodies were pressed even more firmly together, which felt all kinds of wonderful.

“So I think _you_ got no idea how much _I_ love _you_.” Mac smiled, which Jack could actually feel against his own mouth. Gently, he kissed Mac: “Oh yeah? How much?”

Mac leaned into the kiss: “Even my birthday doesn't bother me anymore,” he muttered in between. “Or the fact that you just woke me up in the middle of the night because of it.” He smiled again. “I'm just glad I got you back.”

Jack felt his eyes getting moist. With a choked little sound, he reinforced his grip around Mac and just held on to him tightly, which the younger man reciprocated; he could feel that Jack was trembling, and maybe he, Mac, was trembling as well. Even though they had long since agreed not to keep dwelling on the past, the realization what they were having and what they'd have lost if Jack hadn't come back sometimes hit them afresh, making moments like these feel even more precious.

“Darlin',” Jack eventually muttered again, calmer now; his breath was hot on Mac's skin.

The latter closed his eyes, nuzzling his face against Jack's: “Why is it that it does sound right when you say it, but it sounds weird when I do?”

“Doesn't sound weird to me,” Jack muttered. “Only... as if it's not the kinda thing you usually say. You say stuff like _Higgs boson_ or _supersymmetry_ or _quantum entanglement_ , and it sounds right when you do.”

Mac grinned: “A: you've been watching The Big Bang Theory again, and b: Higgs boson and supersymmetry are not exactly suitable as terms of endearment.” His grin softened into a smile: “Quantum entanglement, on the other hand...”

“What's that?”

“Very short version: each particle of a pair can't be described independently of the state of the others, even when they are separated by a large distance.”

“Wow,” Jack replied after a moment of comprehension. “Sounds like us.”

“Yes.” Mac contemplated this: “Still... not useful.”

“You could shorten it. Call me QE.”

“Really? Like in Queen Elizabeth?”

Jack snorted: “I very much doubt that anyone's calling _her_ QE to her face.”

“You don't know what she and Philip are up to in private.”

“And I don't wanna know, thanks very much.”

“Hm.”

“So anyway... I don't mind.”

They were silent for a while, but Jack felt that in Mac's case, the silence became increasingly loaded and Mac was notably tensing up.

“What's on your mind, hoss?” he asked gently.

Mac hesitated: “Is it really not bothering you? That I'm crap at relationship stuff, I mean?”

For a moment, Jack was too bewildered to answer, then, before he even knew what he going to say, his hand found Mac's face, gently caressing it, because Mac was being overwhelmed by one of his misgivings; his deep-seated insecurities had a habit of tripping him up unexpectedly from time to time.

“Give yourself a little more credit, darlin',” Jack said tenderly. “Hell, a _lot_ more, actually. Just because using those stupid little pet names doesn't come easily to you doesn't mean you're crap at this, okay? On the contrary.”

Mac took a deep breath, then he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.

Jack stroked the soft skin underneath his eye with his thumb: “You're the best person I know,” he murmured. “Got the kindest heart too.”

Another shuddering breath, then the trembling abated.

“You don't have to call me anything,” Jack all but whispered into Mac's hair. “Just... don't ever change.”

He could feel Mac sagging against him.

“ _You_ 're the best,” Mac murmured, closing his eyes; his lashes momentarily tickled Jack's skin.

“Yeah, well,” Jack quipped. “Can't deny it. Maybe we should have a Jack Dalton Appreciation Day instead of your birthday. JDAD for short.”

“Every day is JDAD,” Mac muttered, sounding a tad drowsy now.

“Aww,” Jack squeezed him for a moment. “Thanks, bud. And you think you don't know how to say lovely things!”

Mac wound his arms around Jack more tightly: “Just told the truth,” he said, which made Jack's heart soar in adoration again.

“You're so sweet,” he whispered, once more steamrolled by a mixture of profound relief and gratitude.

“ _You_ 're sweet.”

“You're amazing.”

“You are.”

“Where you are, there's home.”

“... I'm glad. I feel the same about you.”

"You know, I missed you so much I thought I'd go mad." Jack tone was almost inaudible as he said that, and he didn't need to elaborate.

"Me too." Mac lifted his head and looked at Jack, his eyes a mere gleam in the dark: "So don't ever leave again."

"No, no, of course not," Jack hurried to reassure him. "I won't. I promise."

With a shaky exhale, Mac resumed his former position, nestling as close to Jack as possible.

"G'night, QE," he murmured, his breath warm on Jack's skin once more.

"G'night, darlin."

They didn't talk anymore after that, as both of them were slowly drifting off, wrapped around one another snugly.

Soon, both of them were fast asleep.


	3. Sad Anniversary + Being A Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On certain occasions, it's more difficult for Mac to deal with his mom's death than usual. Jack understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On with even more emotional Mac whump and shameless fluff...

Whistling, Jack let himself into the house in the early afternoon: “You're not gonna believe who I just ran into at the airport!”

He was greeted by silence.

“Mac?”

Jack put the bag of groceries and the six-pack he was carrying on the kitchen counter, then he looked around, listening; the living room was empty.

“Where are you, bud?” he called, reaching for his gun. The front door was locked just now and everything appeared normal, but if there was one thing Jack had learned from past experience, it was to never come to Mac's house unprepared or unarmed.

Silently, he moved back into the hallway and looked around, gun in hand. The deck was abandoned, so he went to check Mac's bedroom, trying not to be alarmed. Mac was probably just taking a shower or something, but the fine hairs on Jack's neck were standing to attention nevertheless. Especially when he didn't hear any running water. Slowly, he made his way into the room.

He was just passing by the ladder that led up to the attic when he heard Mac: “I'm up here,” he said, his voice strangely flat.

Jack frowned: “What're you doing, hoss?”

He didn't get an answer, only the kind of heavy silence that usually meant Mac was either so deeply concentrated that he couldn't talk, or something was weighing on him and he didn't know how to tell Jack. Or ask for help. Or realize that he should ask Jack for help in the first place; this was something the latter had learned about the little nerd early on, after all.

Mac had gotten used to being on his own with a lot of stuff, so he considered his problems something he had to face alone, unless someone came along and he didn't have a choice but to accept their help, like in Bozer's case. He rarely asked for it of his own volition, however. Jack suspected that this was such an occasion, unless there actually was an armed burglar who was holding his partner at gunpoint.

He found Mac alone. He was sitting cross-legged, surrounded by cardboard boxes, a closed photo album and what looked like a soft, light yellow sweater in his lap.

“What're you doing, baby?” Jack repeated, pausing on the ladder, his voice gentle now. Mac looked exhausted, his eyes were red-rimmed, and he seemed... distraught.

He swallowed a few times before he actually had his voice under control: “It's my mom's birthday today,” he said tonelessly, not even meeting Jack's gaze. It obviously still was an effort to talk: “She's been gone so long, it's getting more and more difficult to remember her. I'm trying not to look at old pictures too much so I'll keep the memories in my head.” He sounded choked now, despite his earlier efforts to keep his composure: “I can't help it though. Sometimes, I just need to look at her.”

Jack's heart clenched with compassion and the unfairness of it all. Slowly, since he didn't want to startle Mac, he pulled himself up and made his way over to him, sitting on his haunches next to him: “I know what you're talking about,” he said softly. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, after all.

Mac nodded, not looking at him but at the sweater. Slowly, reverently, he ran a hand over it: “Haptic memory helps,” he murmured. Obviously, the sweater had been his mom's.

Unhappily, Jack regarded him: tears were running down Mac's cheeks now, and he looked terribly desolate. As if the grief was doing its best to crush him.

Blinking heavily himself because it was hard to bear seeing his partner like that, Jack put his arm around Mac's shoulders and gently pulled him close. At first, Mac was tense, but after a moment, he pushed the album off his lap and crawled closer and into Jack's arms in one fluid motion, the sweater still in one hand, nearly bowling Jack over in the process.

“Oh, hey, hey,” Jack said, surprised, and quickly caught Mac's thin frame; he could feel him shaking, and the fact that Mac was crying desperately but with barely any sounds only broke his heart a little further.

“It's okay,” he muttered, still feeling close to tears himself. He cradled Mac's head with one hand and gentle rocked him ever so slightly: “Let it all out, baby.”

It didn't matter that his left leg was beginning to feel numb after a while; he could deal with that. It was much harder however to witness Mac's despair, this bottomless sorrow that was probably never going to lessen, and he felt for his partner, at the same time being excruciatingly helpless in the face of it all. There was nothing he could do or say that would diminish Mac's pain.

So he ignored his leg and the ache that was blossoming in his lower back and just held him tightly while Mac clung to him for dear life, shaking. It took a considerable while for him to calm down; there were too many pent-up emotions which he hadn't allowed himself to lose control of in a long time.

Eventually, the sobbing abated until at one point, Mac just lay in Jack's arms bonelessly, seemingly unable to move. Patiently, Jack waited a little longer; he knew his partner well enough to be aware that Mac was doing his best to pull himself together. He usually had remarkable poise, considering the things he'd been through and what had kept being thrown at him in the past years.

“Sorry,” he muttered once he had rallied somewhat, somewhat reluctantly letting go of Jack and avoiding his gaze.

He was still trembling a little, and Jack realized that he hadn't so much calmed down but rather worn himself out. Grief could do that to a person, as Jack had experience himself: his dad's death had put him through the wringer worse than anything during his service abroad.

It'd wear at him perpetuously, rendering him numb with fatigue all the time. And there were days on which his grief caught up with him unawares, even now. Furthermore, every year on the eighth of January or on his dad's birthday at the end of September, he felt the loss afresh.

However, he had lost his father when he had been well over 30, whereas Mac had been terribly young when his mother had passed away.

“Listen to me, Mac,” Jack said in a low voice. “You got nothing to apologize for, okay? I'm your boo, according to Riley. This is part of what that stands for.”

A weary smile flitted across Mac's face, and when he looked up at Jack a moment later, his expression was grateful, if pained and worn out.

“Come on,” Jack said gently, raising a hand to Mac's cheek, stroking his jaw with his thumb, “let's go downstairs. Maybe I'll run you a bath, and then I'll get started on dinner, how does that sound?”

Mac wanted to reply that he didn't want a bath and that he didn't feel like eating either. But Jack's candid affection was warming him from the inside, and he couldn't stop shivering because outwardly, he was inexplicably cold, and he was still hurting. Well. That never actually stopped, really, but right then, it was worse than usual, and he felt close to breaking, which hadn't happened in a long time. It was too much, plain and simple, on top of everything else.

Since he didn't know how to reply, he just leaned forward again until he could rest his head against Jack's sternum, closing his burning eyes and inhaling the other's scent. His free hand found Jack's shirt, bunching up the fabric and closing around it. He just needed Jack, nothing else. Jack's presence meant safety and warmth and being able to breathe. Being loved and appreciated. Wanted. Jack's boundless affection had the ability to strengthen and encourage Mac, even when they were apart. But now he needed more. He needed to feel Jack, have him close.

He opened his mouth to tell his partner so, but no words were forthcoming. He just didn't know how to say what he felt. He was aware that Jack was already putting up with a lot, considering Mac's baggage; he didn't want to complicate matters further. Apart from that, Jack was probably tired too.

“Mac?” Jack asked after while, running a gentle hand down Mac's back. “You still with me, darlin'?”

A helpless little laugh died in Mac's throat and turned into another sob which he quickly bit back, though he couldn't stop the tremours which were shaking him once more. “I can't,” he managed, though his throat was so tight it was difficult. “I can't let go of you yet. Can't. I'm sorry.”

After a moment of comprehension, Jack closed both arms around him around him again: “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured tenderly, full of commiseration. “That's okay. I've got you.” He nosed Mac's hair, pressing a kiss on his temple: “I've got you. I'm not letting go either, okay?” He was a little shaken by the extent of Mac's distress. Gently, he rocked him again, overwhelmed by a fresh wave of fierce protectiveness.

Eventually, the trembling abated; Jack thought that Mac had to be entirely depleted by then. Who knew how long he'd been sitting in that attic room, or if he had slept at all. Jack had cut it so close that morning that he didn't even get the chance to check in; he made a mental note never to let that happen again.

“Do you think we can maybe relocate?” he asked softly at one point. “My back's kinda screaming at me.”

Immediately, Mac recoiled, visibly tensing up: “I'm sorry,” he began, but Jack never relinquished his hold on him: “I'm alright, stop apologizing,” he said appeasingly. “Just not the youngest model anymore. My butt tends to fall asleep much quicker nowadays.”

Mac didn't look entirely convinced, but he let Jack pull him to his feet.

Jack went down the ladder first; as soon as Mac had followed him down, Jack put both hands on the younger man's shoulders: “You still cold?”

Hesitantly, Mac nodded. He didn't even know why; it was sixty degrees outside.

Jack smiled: “How about we get in the tub together? It'd sure be good for my back. Again,” he quickly added. “Not your fault. And it's no big deal either. But since we'd both benefit from it...”

Mac considered this, then he nodded once more.

Half an hour later found them soaking in the big tub. Mac rarely used it, but he had to admit that it was rather luxurious. He was lying back against Jack's chest, immersed to his neck, and the warmth was delicious. As was the feeling of Jack's skin against his own, the strong arm around his chest; with his other hand, Jack was gently massaging Mac's scalp, and he felt himself giving in to the feeling of peace and relaxation that was making itself known. The pain was still there, but it was bearable now; it was as though Jack had taken it and thrown it out and was now keeping it at bay.

Mac squeezed Jack's hand that was resting on his chest and felt Jack squeeze back. He turned his head to talk to him: “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice gravelly.

“Anytime, darlin',” Jack replied, his voice reverberating through Mac. “Feelin' a little more together?”

“Yeah,” Mac paused. “Because you're here.”

A moment later, he felt Jack's lips on his forehead. “I'll always be here for you,” Jack muttered. “I don't want you to be hurting, but if you are, I'll always try to make things better.”

Normally, Mac would have rolled his eyes at something like that, but not now. He felt too bruised, too laid bare- Jack's words were exactly what he needed to hear, so they hit home.

“Always?” he asked feebly.

“Yeah,” Jack nuzzled him. “I thought that was understood in a committed relationship.”

Mac didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to sound too clingy or needy, otherwise he'd have pointed out that being a parent usually also meant being there for your child instead of leaving all of a sudden. Or that life had a way of destroying good things and killing good people, even if they had the best of intentions. But he didn't want to sound pessimistic either.

“What's going on in that head of yours, huh?” Jack asked him gently when Mac remained silent.

Mac's tone was defeated: “I just thought that I need to learn how to live in the moment.”

Jack considered this; it was such a Mac thing to say. “Okay,” he said softly. “Any ideas how to do that?”

Mac shrugged: “Not yet,” he admitted. “But I can't constantly be afraid of losing everyone who's important to me.”

It took Jack all of five seconds to put two and two together: “You're not gonna lose me, darlin',” he said quietly but with emphasis. “Not if I can help it.”

Mac tensed, wanting to object, but Jack forestalled him: “Look at all the shit we've survived so far. Yes, things can go tits up very quickly in our line of work, but that's a risk we're willing to take, right?”

“Yes.”

“You havin' second thoughts about that?” Jack asked cautiously. "'Cause that'd be okay, you know? We'd find something else, together, if you wanted out."

“No,” Mac hurried to say. “No, I don't. Of course not. Do you?”

“No."

"Okay."

"Good. Goes to show we're both crazy, but at least it's never getting boring.”

This elicited a small smile, and it was the most beautiful thing Jack had seen all day. He now wound both arms around Mac, pulling him a little closer. “Pertaining to the other matter... I'd never just leave you. It's... it's inconceivable. Things wouldn't make any sense without you, did I ever tell you that? You're making my life so much better.”

At that, Mac floundered until he had managed to turn around to be able to properly look at Jack; he was trembling again, though this time it had nothing to do with being cold. “I didn't mean to insinuate you're unreliable or anything.” His gaze roamed over Jack's face imploringly.

“I know,” Jack said softly, raising a hand to cup Mac's cheek, a small smile playing around his mouth. “I love you, you little nerd. Madly.”

Mac actually blushed a little, and his whole face lit up considerably: “I love you too,” he all but whispered. "So much."

Later, they snuggled up on the couch, wrapped in a large, heavy blanket. Jack had cooked dinner and told Mac about his two days in Washington and how he had run into his former training officer at the airport, and with it all, a sense of normalcy made itself known. Mac sat at the kitchen counter and just took everything in; it felt like having weathered a storm, and since Jack was there, it was easier to get a grip on himself.

“Sorry for bringing the mood down earlier,” Mac now muttered into Jack's shirt.

“You didn't,” Jack nuzzled his temple. “And stop apologizing anyway.”

Mac took a deep breath: “I'm glad you're back,” he murmured.

“Yeah, it was some really shitty timing for me to go and do red tape stuff, huh?”

“Who's apologizing now?”

“Smartass.” Jack smiled into Mac's hair. “You won't forget her,” he then muttered softly. “Your memories might fade a little, but... the essential things won't. How she felt, how she talked. That kind of stuff'll always stay with you.”

Mac closed his eyes, turning his face further into Jack's chest: “I hope so,” he breathed, burrowing into his partner. “Thanks,” he said a moment later. “For being you.”

Jack pressed a kiss on his hair: “Always, remember? And put thanking me on the list of things not to keep doing, darlin'. It's a given, okay? I don't think I can even count the many many times anymore on which you've built me up whenever I was in a funk because of my dad."

Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but the basic truth was that Mac had always been there for Jack as well, whatever the reason he needed him to.

"Goes both ways, this thing we have," he added.

“It's a good thing.” Mac's warm breath was moistening Jack's shirt, but the sensation wasn't an uncomfortable one, on the contrary.

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. “It is.”


	4. Aftermath + Fridge + Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to circumstances, the boys are not up to their usual par, which is rendering them somewhat more vulnerable.

Groggily, Mac was lying on the couch and trying to concentrate on a podcast about Kinetic Theory, to no avail. Not that the latter wasn't interesting, but Mac had just come home from the hospital a few hours earlier after returning from their latest mission ten days ago in rather bad shape, and he'd only been released already because Dr. Sinderby knew Jack was going to be looking after him.

Mac hated being a patient _and_ the notion that Jack was going to have to do all the work for the next few weeks. He had been looking utterly exhausted on the drive home, but he had still gone out again to get some groceries, intending to buy enough for at least a week so they didn't have to bother about food for the time being. Which was good, because Jack definitely needed some rest as well.

Mac now paused the podcast- the fridge was making weird noises again, which it definitely hadn't when they had left for Turkmenistan. Trust the stupid old thing to threaten to break down now, of all times, Mac thought morosely. He pondered the matter, going over possible causes for the sounds the fridge was emitting. After ruling out a few options, Mac decided that he might be able to avert an impending breakdown, at least if the reason for the noise was what he thought it was. Jack didn't need to know; he had enough things to worry about, and there wasn't any harm in at least having a quick look, was there?

Mac slowly sat up, grimacing because of the noticeable twinges from various healing wounds; he was still taking heavy duty painkillers that were taking the edge off and making him slightly woozy, but even so his body reported back to him that it wasn't up to too much yet. Ignoring that, Mac got to his feet, waiting until the inevitable moment of vertigo had passed, then he made his way to the kitchen with measured movements, his arms wrapped around his torso.

The fridge was definitely sounding wrong, but Mac quickly realized that he was in no shape to move it. He tried for maybe half a minute, then broke off the attempt. Panting and feeling dizzy, he staggered backwards to support himself on the kitchen island. He waited until the worst was over, then stubbornly pushed himself forward again: he wasn't going to let himself be defeated by a simple matter of applied physics, he just needed a better strategy and something to use as a lever. Piece of cake!

Gritting his teeth but with stubborn determination, Mac went to his bedroom to look for his hockey stick. By the time he was back in the kitchen, he was shaking and feeling even dizzier than before from the exertion. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the rushing of blood in his ears to subside and his heart to slow down. Giving up had never been an option, after all.

Jack kept blinking, courtesy of his tired eyes. The past fortnight had been hell, and he had barely slept. For two whole days, it had been touch and go, and he hadn't left Mac's side for most of that time, had been too afraid that his partner might quietly slip away if he did, if he didn't hold on. When Mac was finally doing better, he had still looked so wan and frail that Jack didn't even afford himself the time to go home and take a shower; several times, Riley had brought him a change of clothes and whichever necessities he might need, which he appreciated but didn't truly care about.

But now Mac was home, and while he was still giving the impression that a slight breeze might knock him over and Jack had gotten an epic list of instructions from the doc, Jack was still glad. He was going to make sure Mac rested and recuperated, because he could still vividly feel the fear of losing him; it was always there, of course, in an abstract what-if-one-day kind of way, but the recent events made it terribly palpable again, since it had been such a close shave. Jack was accordingly worn out and looking forward to getting some sleep, but first, he was going to cook a decent meal.

Once Mac had been on the mend, Bozer kept bringing in some stuff, but Jack still mainly lived on vending machine food during the past days.

“No more,” he said, smiling grimly as he steered the GTO up the drive, looking forward to some peace and quiet, some normalcy.

Carrying three bags, Jack let himself into the house: “I'm back,” he called even before he had closed the door behind him. It was quiet, and for a moment, everything seemed fine. Then however, he heard a clatter followed by a choked gasp coming from the kitchen and didn't hesitate but broke into a run at once. There was a hockey stick on the floor and Mac was swaying in front of the fridge, white-faced; it was all Jack could do to drop the grocery bags and catch him just as Mac's legs gave out.

“Easy, easy, I've got you,” Jack muttered as Mac unsuccessfully struggled to get his feet under him. Carefully, Jack slid one arm around Mac's legs so he could hoist him up and carry him back to the couch, where he eased him down gently.

Mac groaned: “That really wasn't necessary.” Fine beads of sweat were visible on his forehead, and he didn't even seem to have the energy to sit up.

Jack was momentarily speechless in the face of such cheek: “What the hell, hoss?” he asked. “You were about to keel over and couldn't even stand. What were you doing there anyway?”

Mac looked belligerent: “I was going to repair the fridge.”

“Repair the- _are you out of your mind_?”

“It's not a big deal.” Mac's tone was defiant.

Jack stared at him, turning red: “Not too long ago, you nearly bled out from a bullet wound! Doc said it's a marvel you're doing this good after such a short amount of time and everything else you've been through on that mission, and frankly, you're still looking like a waif. So excuse me if I _am_ making a big deal out of it!”

Mac couldn't help feeling guilty at that.

“I didn't mean to alarm you,” he said contritely. “I have a pretty good idea what the problem might be and it's really easy to fix, I just couldn't move the thing.”

Jack snorted through his nose, trying to calm down: “Even if the fridge started spinning and playing _La Cucaracha_ , you're not supposed to be up and repairing things yet!”

“It's just a-”

“Not the point!” Jack yelled, unable to stop himself; he immediately regretted it when he saw Mac flinching at that, but it was too late, and he still had a hard time not to keep yelling. But he reigned himself in, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling through his nose before he continued: “You almost died, Mac! I thought I was losing you for sure this time, and with what little sleep I had lately I still have occasional moments of panic before I realize it's all good now! But it won't stay that way if you do stupid things like this! _Please_ , stop being so careless about your own well-being, because I don't think I can take it if you collapse on me again or worse!”

A few days earlier, Mac had been adamant that he was able to take a shower all by himself, and had promptly passed out in the small bathroom. Jack really didn't want a repetition of something like that at home.

Mac, who knew what his partner was referring to, avoided to meet Jack's gaze, and he looked terribly young and vulnerable right then.

“I'm sorry,” he said slowly and barely audible. “I didn't think... It's not...” He broke off, for once unable to find the right words. He seemed defeated however, and his tired eyes were brimming all of a sudden, as if he still didn't know what he had actually done wrong. Which broke Jack's heart, melting all of his remaining anger away in a beat.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, gently pushing Mac aside a little with his hip, and cupped his face with his hands: “I'm sorry too,” he said softly. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

“No, you're right,” Mac mumbled. “I should be more careful.” He took a shuddering breath: “I just didn't want you to have to deal with a broken fridge on top of everything else.”

Jack's expression softens further at that: “I'm an idiot, aren't I.”

“No,” Mac reached for Jack's arms and held on to his wrists with trembling hands. “I was the idiot. I should've waited for you and explained things.”

“Yeah, maybe. Can we just file this under 'we're both weary and could do with a break', please?”

“Yes.” A tiny smile flitted across Mac's haggard face. If he was honest with himself, his own lingering weakness had spooked him more than he cared to admit.

“'kay.” Jack regarded him fondly. “I'mma put away the groceries. How about we order in some pizza tonight and I'll join you on the couch instead of cooking?”

“Best idea ever,” Mac beamed at him, and the sight lightened Jack's tender heart. “I missed your smile, darlin',” he murmured, caressing Mac's cheek with the back of his fingers. “All that time in the hospital, I tried to think positive, but you only realize what you got once it's gone, right?”

Mac regarded him: “Story of my life,” he muttered. “Apart from Bozer, that is. And now there's you.”

Jack found it hard to bear whenever Mac said things like that, but at the same time he was glad that Mac was able to talk to him about them. “Yeah, I'm afraid you're stuck with me,” he said tenderly, though inwardly, he could have kicked himself for touching on the subject at all.

 _Think before you speak, Dalton_ , he chided himself. If he just weren't so tired. It was his fault that Mac was looking distraught now, all previous lightheartedness gone again. On the contrary, he was frowning: “Even when I do something stupid like today?”

Jack's heart broke a little at that: “Of course,” he said emphatically. “Do you have any idea how glad I am whenever I realize you're only human either?” He cracked a small grin, trying to lift Mac's spirits.

The latter's eyes however were still narrowed, as if he was trying to fathom the depth of the damage he had possibly done earlier. As if he wasn't fully convinced that incidents such as on that day might still accumulate to represent a reason for Jack to leave him as well at one point.

“Mac,” Jack said softly, gently running his hand through Mac's hair. “How often have _I_ done something stupid since you've known me, huh? It's normal. Nobody's perfect and all that. It's the thought that counts, right?” He leaned forward to nuzzle Mac's nose with his own, then kissed him: “I know what you're thinking,” he muttered. “But that's not gonna happen. You could never do something so stupid I'd leave you for it.”

Mac's troubled expression slowly softened into a more relaxed one. “Never say never,” he murmured, but he seemed relieved. Jack thought that his partner was probably never going to get over his abandonment issues, and he honestly couldn't blame him. He could only try to be there for him and show him that healthy relationships between people were quite able to suffer the occasional conflict without anyone leaving because of it.

“But I do,” Jack heard himself answer. “And I'll still be doing so when I'm old and wrinkly and _you_ 're not quite as old and probably less wrinkly and pushing my wheelchair.”

This elicited the amused snort Jack was hoping for. “I'll build you a fully automatic one,” Mac promised, and the last bit of gloom disappeared from his face.

Ten minutes later, Mac was leaning back against Jack's chest, both of them snuggled into a blanket, and did his best to keep his eyes open as they were watching _Hudson Hawk_ because Jack said they could do with something undemanding. Mac wisely didn't comment on that. He was asleep after the first half hour or so, but Jack didn't mind. He loved the other's warm weight nestling against him and Mac's steady heartbeat under his hand and the way his chest expanded with every breath, which was all that mattered. It was doing his bruised soul a whole lot of good.

Gently, he reinforced his grip around Mac, mindful of his injuries but needing the contact, and felt his own tension seeping away by degrees.


	5. Groovy + Kind + Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy afternoon and no mission for a change...

  
  


Jack was lying on Mac's bed with a new book (“Muscle Cars: A Legacy of American Performance”); from time to time, he glanced over at his partner, who was working on something that required a lot of wires and soldering.

Jack smiled to himself: this was what Mac did for relaxation, and Jack kept catching himself just watching the other, who was deeply concentrated. Jack could have looked at Mac's hands all day, loving the way they moved gracefully and with purpose. Well. He could have looked at the rest of him all day as well, of course; Mac however always noticed it, no matter how focused he was, and he didn't like being watched. So Jack tried not to, though he couldn't stop himself from sneaking the occasional peek.

At one point, he put the book aside, stretching languorously: it was rare for them to be having a weekend off, and he was enjoying the leisure very much. Outside, it was raining cats and dogs, but he didn't even mind.

Mac however didn't quite seem to understand the concept of sweet idleness; he was getting restless after a while, as if it was necessary not to waste too much time doing nothing.

They had spent the morning at the beach, just walking along the shore for a while, despite the already increasingly dark clouds. The air had smelled of salt and the impending rain, and they were mostly alone, apart from a few dauntless surfers.

At one point, Mac had reached for Jack's hand, and the latter couldn't but feel proud and elated. They didn't usually do anything like that, since they felt rather private about their relationship, but for some reason, it seemed right just then.

Afterwards, they had lunch at Café Parisienne and went grocery shopping, and now Jack felt himself getting sleepy, even though it was only afternoon. So he reached for the soft woolen throw that had so far only covered his feet, which were still recovering from walking in the admittedly suprisingly cold sand earlier, and pulled it over himself. It was so cozy that he sighed contentedly.

He opened his eyes again when the mattress dipped: “Hm?”

“Just taking a break,” Mac said over his shoulders as he took off his boots.

“Oh, good.” Smiling drowsily, Jack lifted the blanket in a silent invitation, and Mac crawled in with him; a moment later, his warm weight burrowed into Jack's side, and he wrapped his arms around his partner: “About time,” he muttered, pressing a kiss on Mac's hair.

He could feel Mac's smile: “Yeah?” He sometimes was shy like that, as if he was still wrapping his head around the fact that he was Jack's favourite person in the world.

“Course.” Jack tightened his grip around him: “I'mma say something cheesy now, okay?” He didn't wait for an answer: “Thing is... Sometimes I miss you even when you're right here.”

Mac was quiet for a moment: “That's not cheesy,” he said softly, hesitating: “I know exactly what you mean.”

Now Jack couldn't but open his eyes once more: “You do?”

Mac lifted his head to look at him: “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It's... even when you're sitting next to me in the car, you sometimes... feel too far away.” A fine blush crept up his face.

“That why you took my hand earlier?”

“Yeah.” Mac's blush deepened.

Jack smiled broadly at that: “I thought that's only me, darlin',” he said.

Mac smiled as well: “It's not.”

“C'mere, you,” Jack muttered, tugging until Mac was lying on top of him, which felt all kinds of wonderful. Gently, Jack nuzzled Mac's nose: “I love you so much.”

“Love you more,” Mac muttered, kissing him.

Jack pushed one hand underneath Mac's shirt, caressing his soft skin: “This should come off,” he murmured against Mac's lips, eliciting another smile.

Slowly, they undressed one another. “You feel good,” Mac said softly once they were both naked. Jack regarded him with open affection: “So do you.”

Mac's expression faltered a little at that. He was strangely self-conscious about his own body, and Jack wished he could remedy that. He ran his hands over Mac's back and up into his hair: “You're beautiful,” he murmured, “I've always thought so.”

Now the blush was back. Jack framed Mac's face with his hands: “Darlin', he said tenderly, and Mac just seemed to melt against him: “I'm so lucky I've got you,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Jack said lightly, “but that goes both ways.”

Later, they just lay in silence, wrapped around each other, and listened to the rain that was pelting against the windows as it was getting dark.

“We should do this more often,” Jack muttered eventually. “'s nice.”

“Yeah.” Mac tightened his grip around him. “All of it.”

Drowsily, Jack nuzzled Mac: “Really? Even the lazing around part of the day?”

“I don't know if what we did counts as lazing around...”

“Nah, probably not. This though... this does.”

“Well, in that case... yes. All of it.”

“Deal.” Jack smiled into Mac's hair. “It's kinda perfect, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, Mac lifted his head to look at Jack: “I'mma say something cheesy too now.”

“Ch- you said it wasn't cheesy!”

“This last bit was. A little. Though I agree per se. Still cheesy.”

“Yeah, okay. A little. So you were gonna say?”

“Do you think it'll ever stop being perfect?”

Jack regarded him: “As long as we're together,” he said slowly, “it won't.”

Mac began to blink: “Okay,” he said, trying to pretend his eyes weren't a little moist right then. “Sounds good to me.”

“Also cheesy though,” Jack muttered, blinking as well.

Mac cleared his throat: “It's a well-known fact that all the stupid songs make sense when you're in love. So you're entitled to be cheesy. It doesn't really matter whether you quote Phil Collins or make it up yourself.”

Jack considered that: “True,” he conceded. “Though to be fair: Phil Collins hits the nail on the head most of the time. That's why I'm telling you, 'You'll Be In My Heart' is our song!”

“It's not.”

“It so is! I remember it clearly- shortly after we met, I heard it and I thought that's us down to a T!”

“I'm not _small_ ,” Mac protested.

Jack wisely didn't reply to that. He just sighed and began to sing: “ _My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm, this bond between us, can't be broken, I will be here_ -”

“Okay,” Mac interrupted him, because it was rather off-key, and while it was sweet, it was also horrible. “I get your point, that much is true.”

“All of it is,” Jack muttered complacently, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Mac sighed, not in the mood to argue any further. Instead, he rested his head on Jack's chest once more, listening to the strong heartbeat he could feel: “ _When you're close to me_ ,” he murmured, “ _I can feel your heart beat, I can hear you breathing near my ear. Wouldn't you agree, baby, you and me got a groovy kind of love?_ ”

“Yes, darlin',” Jack whispered, pressing a kiss onto his hair. “We definitely do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll Be In My Heart lyrics: 
> 
> Come stop your crying  
> It will be alright  
> Just take my hand  
> Hold it tight  
> I will protect you  
> From all around you  
> I will be here  
> Don't you cry
> 
> For one so small  
> You seem so strong  
> My arms will hold you  
> Keep you safe and warm
> 
> This bond between us  
> Can't be broken  
> I will be here  
> Don't you cry
> 
> 'Cause you'll be in my heart  
> Yes, you'll be in my heart  
> From this day on  
> Now and forever more  
> You'll be in my heart  
> No matter what they say  
> You'll be here in my heart, always
> 
> Why can't they understand the way we feel?  
> They just don't trust what they can't explain  
> I know we're different but deep inside us  
> We're not that different at all
> 
> And you'll be in my heart  
> Yes, you'll be in my heart  
> From this day on  
> Now and forever more
> 
> Don't listen to them  
> 'Cause what do they know? (What do they…  
> When destiny calls you  
> You must be strong (you gotta be strong)  
> I may not be with you  
> But you've got to hold on  
> They'll see in time  
> I know  
> We'll show them together  
> 'Cause you'll be in my heart  
> Believe me you'll be in my heart  
> I'll be there from this day on  
> Now and forever more
> 
> Ooh, you'll be in my heart (you'll be here in my heart)  
> No matter what they say (I'll be with you)  
> You'll be here in my heart (I'll be there), always  
> Always  
> I'll be with you  
> And I'll be there for you always  
> Always and always
> 
> Just look over your shoulder  
> Just look over your shoulder  
> Just look over your shoulder  
> I'll be there always


	6. Aftermath + True-Blue (S02e09 "CD-ROM + Hoagie Foil")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been another close shave. Good thing Mac has Jack to keep the darkness at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This refers to S02e09 "CD-ROM + Hoagie Foil".

Mac blinked his eyes open; they felt gritty, but his headache had lessened somewhat. His entire body still felt sore, though, and heavy. He couldn't imagine to move even a fraction at any point soon. However, the VXS wasn't entirely out of his system yet, and he got the occasional spasm. Which were short, fortunately, but mind-numbingly painful all the same, making even his teeth hurt. Breathing was already easier however, and he was glad that he'd got rid of that infernal nasal canula.

“Hey, hoss,” a familiar voice said nearby, and Mac's expression softened into a smile even before his eyes met Jack's.

Who looked worried and exhausted: “How're you feelin'?”

“Better,” Mac murmured. “Jus' tired.”

Jack seemed relieved, but right then, another spasm hit. For a moment, Mac's world was reduced to agony; he arched off the bed, startling Jack, who got to his feet so abruptly that he almost toppled over his chair.

“I'm okay,” Mac gasped once it was over, though his eyes were streaming.

Jack shook his head: the doctor told them that it might keep happening for a while, but it was still disconcerting. “I thought they gave you the good drugs!”

“They did.” With a small groan, Mac sagged into the pillow. “Otherwise... I'd be dead by now.”

Jack paled. “Don't say that.”

“It's true.”

“Still don't wanna hear it.” Jack pulled the chair all the way up to the bed and sat down again, leaning forward and putting both hands on Mac's arm. Needing the contact.

Mac peered at his partner: “Sorry.”

For a while, they were silent, and Mac felt himself getting sleepy again; the past 24 hours had done quite a number on him, after all, and he was still on heavy duty medication not only because of the nerve gas and its aftereffects but also because of the wound in his leg.

“Gonna go back to sleep,” he slurred, just so Jack wouldn't worry.

“I'll be here.” Jack got up and gently caressed Mac's cheek with the back of his fingers. “Sleep well.”

“Hm.” Mac's eyes were already closing, but he smiled when Jack leaned over the railing and kissed him.

Once Mac was ready to be discharged two days later, they were both relieved.

“You know what's best about going home?” Mac asked Jack in the car.

“That you've finally escaped all the poking and prodding?”

“No.”

“That you've finally escaped the hospital food?”

“No.”

“That you'll be sleeping in your own bed tonight?”

“Yes.” The corners of Mac's mouth quirked up. “With you.”

At that, Jack beamed proudly: “Love you too.”

For the time being though, Mac insisted on staying on the couch, and since Jack had gotten it into his head to make some pancakes and he'd be able to keep an eye on Mac from the kitchen that way, he didn't argue.

“Do you really want to cook now?” Mac asked once he was safely installed on the couch and Jack had put everything he might need in his reach.

Jack regarded him sternly: “Gotta take food cravings serious, darlin'. I've been dreaming of pancakes for three days straight, so...” He sighed. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

Mac laughed quietly: “Okay...”

He actually enjoyed watching Jack putter around in the kitchen. His leg really hurt even after a short trip to the bathroom, and he'd not yet gotten entirely rid of the lingering headache that had been bothering him ever since the exposure to the nerve gas, despite the medication and the rest, so for once he was secretly glad that he could just lie on the couch.

Later, once the pancakes had been eaten and Mac had taken his meds (Jack was meticulous when it came to these things), Mac actually opted for a nap. The drugs and the food had made him drowsy, on top of everything else.

“Don't you wanna go to bed, lie down properly?” Jack asked him, regarding him fondly.

Mac gave him a weary smile, just so with the corners of his mouth: “Come with me?”

“Yeah, I could do with some shut-eye.” Jack extended his hands and pulled him to his feet. Slowly, they made their way to Mac's bedroom, where Jack helped Mac to get under the covers, then slid out of his shoes and his jeans and followed him, immediately wrapping his arms around the other. Mac gladly burrowed into Jack's firm embrace, shifting around a little until he had found the perfect position with his head on Jack's shoulder. It's warm and comfortable and just what he needed.

“Missed you,” he muttered, eliciting a smile: “Missed you too,” Jack muttered against Mac's forehead, pressing a kiss on his skin. “Love you so much, darlin'.”

“Love you too,” Mac slurred, tightening his own grip around the other, and once more, Jack was grateful that he was still here. He wasn't fooled by Mac's pretence to be doing much better already; he could see the tight lines around his partner's eyes which meant that he was still having a headache, and Mac was far too tense for someone who was on the kind of medication that he was currently taking.

Well. The surgeon told them in unmistakable terms what he thought of the whole stabbing-oneself-to-induce-an-adrenaline-rush business, and of course, the VXS was nothing to be trifled with. Mac didn't know it yet, but he was going to be off the rota for quite some time.

Jack woke some two hours later, momentarily confused; the room was filled with twilight, and he didn't know what interrupted his sleep until Mac stirred again, and it's only then that Jack realized Mac was trembling and shaking, probably being caught in a dream.

“Wake up, hoss,” he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down Mac's back and nosing at Mac's hair. “It's not real, you're dreaming.”

With a shuddering breath, Mac jerked awake, blinking confusedly: “Jack?” he asked, his voice brittle.

“Just a dream,” Jack said evenly, keeping up the back rubbing; Mac's shirt was slightly damp from sweat, either because of the dream or a side effect of the drugs. Or maybe both.

Inwardly, Jack was not nearly as calm as he pretended to be, because it was difficult to bear Mac's susceptibilities, or the notion how easily he could have lost him once more. Which probably was the same train of thought that chased Mac out of his sleep just now.

“Yeah,” he muttered, bemused. The remnants of the dream were already obscure, drifting away like wisps of smoke, but he thought he might have been in that room again, only this time, he didn't manage to come up with a way to get rid of the gas...

“You're okay,” Jack now said softly, his hand relocating to Mac's arm, which he rubbed gently because Mac was still trembling; the whole matter had visibly shaken him.

He lay back down, scooting closer to Jack, seeking his warmth and his strength.

“What if I hadn't found all the parts I needed?” he asked softly; the question was nearly choking him.

Jack gently caressed his face, full of concern and love: “But you did,” he said in an equally low voice. “You always do.”

Mac swallowed; he sometimes pondered this. What if his luck ran out? He didn't say this, because he knew what Jack'd reply: _luck's got nothing to do with it, hoss_.

Only Mac thought it did, and maybe he was going to be in for a bad surprise one day. Which was one of the things that sometimes haunted his sleep, even though he usually tried not to dwell on it, otherwise he couldn't have done this job.

“I'd have broken the glass,” Jack now told him, and he sounded so fierce that Mac knew he meant it; it wasn't a joke.

“I'd have broken the glass and held my breath and gotten you out of there.”

The determination in his tone was almost ridiculously reassuring. Mac took a deep breath: “You would have,” he muttered.

“Course,” Jack nosed his forehead, “that's what you got me for, right? I've got your back, always. So if you ever do run out of ideas or parts or whatever, I'll make sure we'll still get out in one piece.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Mac nodded.

“'kay,” he muttered. He wanted to believe Jack, against all odds. They didn't know what the future was going to bring and if they'd still be here in five years' time, but then again, no one did. And he trusted his partner, of course, trusted him implicitly.

“Jack?” he eventually asked, his voice still far too thin.

“Yes, darlin'?”

“It's only _one_ of the things I've got you for. You know that, right?”

He could actually hear Jack's smile: “Yeah.” It made him tighten his grip even more, and Jack, sensing how much Mac needed it right then, did the same. His heartbeat and his scent and his warmth eventually calmed Mac down more efficiently than any words could have, and after a while, he was downright drowsy again.

They only got up to use the bathroom or for food, but otherwise stayed in bed like that for the rest of the day, listening to some Dire Straits and a podcast about Antarctica until they both fell asleep in each other's arms.


	7. Meet + The Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bozers are in town. They have met Jack before, if not in the capacity as Mac's boyfriend.

When Bozer brings his parents over during their extended weekend visit, the first thing they do is to hug Mac. They don't look around, they don't waste any time with introductions, they pull Mac into their arms even before the door is closed behind them and hug him: first, Bozer's dad, who doesn't say anything apart from “been too long, kiddo,” then his mom, who cradles Mac's head with one hand and doesn't let go for a considerable amount of time: “I've missed you, baby,” she says, her voice tender, and Mac hugs her back just as tightly.

“I've missed you too,” he mutters, ears turning red, but there's a smile there, almost shy but definitely pleased.

Even as they eventually pull back, Lilian never lets go of him entirely but looks him over with her hands on his arms: “How are you doing, and tell me the truth?”

She knows about everything that happened, of course, because Wilt told her. There were times when she wanted to take the next plane to L.A. and take care of her quasi-adopted son who was grieving not only for his dad but also for an unexpected aunt Lilian would like to hear more about and apparently, not doing well at all. Recently though, the news have been better; apparently, Mac is improving, and she is glad to see for herself that he looks okay.

There are subtle hints that he's had a hard time of it, tell-tale signs only a mother would know, like the fine lines around his eyes and his mouth which have nothing to do with laughter. And of course, he's thin as a stick. Always tended to stop eating when something was bothering him, this one.

She talked to him on the phone, after his father's death, and back then his voice was brittle and he sounded so hurt that it was hard to bear. He seems steadier now, and the smile he gives her is sincere and genuine: “I'm good,” he replies softly. “Really.”

Lilian runs her hand over his hair: “I'm so glad to hear it, angel,” she says, smiling if a little tremulous, “you got no idea.”

At that, Mac's smile deepens.

Bozer is looking at the scene with a proud expression, and Jack finds himself smiling as well, just because it makes him so inexplicably happy to know that these amazing people were there for Mac when his own parents weren't, that he is and has been loved nevertheless.

What he didn't expect is for Bozer's dad to pull him aside later, as they are scattered on the deck and in the kitchen while Bozer is busy at the barbecue and has everyone doing stuff. Jack, who has just handed him a few plates as requested, follows Mr. Bozer to the far side, where the latter puts down his beer and crosses his arms in front of his chest: “I hear that you and Mac are an _item_ now.”

Jack only barely subdues a laugh, feeling that it might not be appropriate. “Yeah?” he replies cautiously. “It's still quite new.”

Mr. Bozer looks at him sternly: “My son tells me that you're a good man, Jack. We've only met a couple times before, therefore I can't say I know you well, if at all, but I choose to believe Wilt, and Mac's own judgment. But you listen carefully- that boy has been disappointed too often in his life already. I won't stand for anyone else hurting him. If I hear anything of the sort, you'll have to answer to me.” His tone is calm, but it's clear that he means it.

Jack raises his hands: “Hey, I'm with you. I was his Overwatch before we became friends, and I've been protecting him ever since.” He lowers his voice: “Thing is... I'm never _not_ on the job, you know? He's got something about him... that makes me want to hide him from the world sometimes.” Unaware how tender he sounded just now, he smiles: “The last thing I'd wanna do is hurt him.”

Mr. Bozer's expression softens: “Good. I'm glad we sorted that out.”

Jack regards him: “I know some people think it's weird because of the age difference,” he says slowly. “Hell, even I did at first. Asked myself what Mac could possibly see in an old geezer like me. But he's-”

“An old soul,” Mr. Bozer finishes the sentence for him, shrugging at Jack's surprise: “Wilt's been saying that for years, and we can see it too. At the same time, he's still only a kid. With a lot of baggage.”

“Yeah.” Jack smiles again. “But he's not alone with it. And I'm real glad that y'all had his back long before I came along.”

After a moment, Mr. Bozer nods and extends his hand, which Jack shakes with a sense of relief. That however only lasts until he's cornered by Mrs. Bozer half a minute later.

“I already told your husband I'd-” he begins, but breaks off when she abruptly and unexpectedly pulls him close and into her arms.

“Thank you,” she says softly, “for taking such good care of my boy.”

Jack assumes that she is talking about Mac, because she doesn't know about Bozer's current job and the various ways in which Jack has saved Wilt's life ever since Murdoc sort of let him in on the secret.

“Can't help it,” he muttered softly in reply, touched by her concern. “How could anyone _not_ adore him?”

“Beats me,” she lets go of Jack and wipes her eyes. “But I'm glad he's got you. I can see that you're making him happy.”

“Yeah?” Jack beams at her.

“Yeah.” She smiles back at him. “Oh, but make no mistake- if you ever break his heart, I'll get on the next available plane and break your legs. Got it?”

Jack immediately stands a little straighter: “Yes, Ma'am.”

That night, as they are getting ready for bed, Jack regards Mac in the mirror while they're brushing their teeth.

“What?” Mac asks once he's done.

“Nothin'.” Jack rinses out his mouth. “I really like the Bozers, man. They're just my kind of people.”

Mac raises an eyebrow: “How so?”

“Well, I always thought it's only Boze, but it turns out that the whole family is fiercely protective of you.”

Immediately, Mac blushes a little: “ _Really_?” he says, trying to sound incredulous but fidgeting with the dental floss a little too much to sell it.

“You know what I mean,” Jack dries his hands on a towel. “Both parents gave me their blessing today, kinda. _And_ made it unmistakably clear what'd happen if I ever broke your heart.”

Mac laughs a little: “They didn't.”

“Oh, believe me, they did.” Jack pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it into the hamper. “And I wasn't gonna tell you this, but Bozer did too.”

“Today?”

“Nah, a few weeks ago.” Jack looks amused now. “Said he'd go all Wookiee on me if I dared to do wrong by you.”

Now Mac really laughs: “Okay,” he says. “Well, I highly doubt he'll ever have any reason to pull your arms out of their sockets.”

Grinning, Jack catches him in a one-armed hug: “I love you,” he mutters, pressing a kiss on Mac's temple. “Even when you're being a little nerd.”

“You also know that reference,” Mac says defiantly, though his glare in the mirror is half-hearted. “You gonna let me floss now?”

“You gonna kiss me first?”

“Fine.” Mac smacks a kiss on Jack's cheek. "Can I please floss _now_?"

Jack smiles at him: "If you insist."

He's still basking in the afterglow of Lilian's words, and he's proud that he's the one who can give Mac what he needs, and make sure he knows his own worth and how much he's appreciated every single day. Be a rock for him when he's down, and help him through the darker days. True happiness, he thinks, can be surprisingly varied. Sometimes, it's enough just to know that you've got someone to rely on. Or being the one someone's relying on. And the unshakable certainty that there's mutual affection and trust and loyalty.

He's replaying his conversation with Bozer's dad in his mind when a foot nudging his own pulls him out of his thoughts, and he meets his partner's gaze in the mirror again: “Love you too,” Mac says softly.

At that, Jack simply wraps both arms around him and holds on to him for a while, pushing his nose against his skin and breathing him in, and Mac doesn't protest but relaxes into the embrace.

Flossing can wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to meet Bozer's parents in season 5, but until then, I'm going to stick to my headcanon. Lilian Bozer as I imagine her makes her first appearance in my story "Where Did Everybody Go ?" (written for Whumptober 2020), but you don't need to read that before this one.  
> Oh, and this ignores the whole "now I'm entirely alone in the world" nonsense from season 4, of course.


	8. Ain't Going Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's been injured, and Mac is seriously scared of losing him this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this sitting in my WIP folder and thought I'd better finish it before the Jack episode tonight because I might not be able to do so otherwise...

“Jack!” With a shout, Mac bolts upright, panting and confused, for a moment unable to grasp what is happening. He was with Jack, who was shaking and in pain, and there was too much blood, Jack's blood, coating Mac's hands...

He shudders, closing his eyes again until he feels a hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring: “Mac, you okay?”

It's Bozer, who is looking at him with concern. And now it's all coming back to Mac. He can't help that he's shaking, but at least he knows where he is now and what has happened.

“Yeah,” he mutters somewhat hoarsely. “'m okay. Just... fell asleep.” He glances at the door, at which Bozer shakes his head: “No news yet.”

“No, of course.” They'd have woken him. The fact that he fell asleep at all makes Mac feel guilty: how can he sleep when Jack is fighting for his life?

He glances at Riley, who gives him a soft, sad smile and just reaches over to take his hand, squeezing it. “It's okay,” she says in a low voice. “I'm glad you caught a break. Last few days were rough.”

Mac feels his eyes filling up: right now, he can't handle her sympathy. “Yeah well, this is rough for all of us,” he replies harshly.

Unfazed, Riley just grips his hand tighter: “We weren't there,” she says. “You're the one who had to get Jack out and to safety.”

She doesn't say _save his life_ because that's still hanging in the balance, and it's making Mac shake harder again. He doesn't realize that he's chalk white all of a sudden and starting to pant again, but his friends never let go of him; in fact, Bozer also reinforces his grip on Mac's shoulder, and that's probably the only thing that's holding him upright for now.

And then Matty, who has so far been silent, is there too, standing right in front of him with both hands on his knees: “Deep breaths,” she says quietly, “just focus on your breathing, Blondie. In... and out. In... “

She coaches him like this until he's calmed down somewhat, and he's grateful for her presence.

He's faced a lot of impossibly dangerous and sometimes seemingly hopeless situations, but he's never felt a panic like this before. The feeling of dread that's been keeping in him a chokehold ever since Jack lost consciousness for the first time, seemingly ages before they had secured exfil, is bearing down on him hard, enough in fact to make him feel nauseous. If Jack doesn't make it, he's not going to either. He's not afraid for himself, but it's undeniable that Jack's the one person he can't live without.

He doesn't say any of this out loud, just thanks the others once he's got himself under control again; no need to pile on to their worries.

It's another two hours before the surgeon comes to talk to them. He looks solemn when he walks in, and for a terrible, eternal moment, Mac expects the worst. He can barely stand and doesn't immediately comprehend that Jack made it off the table, because it doesn't sound so good altogether, and his condition is still critical. Things can still go wrong, but. He's alive.

Only one person is allowed to see him once he's been settled in the ICU, and by unspoken agreement, that's Mac. He's got to wear protective clothing and is only being granted a few minutes, but that's alright, as long as he'll see him. For a large part of the night, he didn't know if he'd ever talk to Jack again, or hear his voice. Right now, Mac'll be content that his partner's still there at all.

For a brief moment, he just stands next to the bed and takes it all in. No matter how often one has seen something like this, it's daunting every time. A person surrounded by and dependent on machinery, unaware of the goings-on around them and looking too lifeless; not something one'd ever get used to. Jack is terribly pale, and he's still intubated. Bandages are visible beneath the hospital gown, and various lines are sneaking out from under it.

At least the blood is gone, Mac thinks as he slowly, carefully, reaches for Jack's hand and wraps his fingers around it, taking comfort in the familiarity of the sensation.

He knows he should talk to Jack, tell him that he'll be alright and whatever else people say on these occasions, but his voice doesn't obey. He swallows repeatedly, feeling close to tears again instead, and just helplessly holds on to Jack's hand as though it was a lifeline.

When time's almost up, he finally manages to get out a few words, if only in a choked whisper: “You said you weren't going anywhere. I hold you to that promise. I love you, Jack. So much...”

More waiting. Strangely, now that he's seen Jack, Mac feels even worse. He should've talked to Jack if this may have been the last chance. He should've told him how much he meant to him, how he made Mac's life so much better. He should've made him feel Mac's presence instead of just holding his hand, paralyzed with the immensity of it all.

He doesn't realize he's crying until a hand with a tissue appears in his line of vision; only then does he notice the tears that are running down his face. Embarrassed, he takes the tissue, wiping over his eyes with the back of one hand and not looking at Matty, who just sat down next to him.

He has no idea just how desolate he looks right then. Matty regards him and wishes she could do something; as it is, she can only be there for him, keep him company.

Wordlessly, she reaches up and strokes his cheek, once, twice; hell, this boy makes her feel all maternal. Under normal circumstances, she'd refrain from crossing his personal boundaries like this, but since there's nothing normal about this situation, she lets her instincts take over. And Mac doesn't flinch away: for a moment, he looks utterly bewildered, but then his expression softens, and she reads gratitude and affection in it. When Matty pulls her hand back, he reaches for it, holding on to her.

“I don't want to lose him either, kid,” Matty whispers, at which Mac nods.

They stay like that for a long time.

The next time Mac is allowed in, things have begun to look up. Jack is holding his own and his vitals are improving; the doctor is cautiously optimistic. Not that there is any visible difference; Jack still looks the same. Mac however feels encouraged, and this time, he finds his voice. He tells Jack all the things he already knows but still needs to hear once more because Mac probably hasn't said them often or clear enough. Before he leaves, he reaches out and strokes Jack's face just like Matty did with him earlier, and he feels much calmer afterwards than the first time.

When the doctor finally tells them, on the following day, that Jack is on his way to recovery, the sheer relief makes Mac's knees so weak that he needs to sit down. As does Riley. Well, they haven't slept properly or had a decent meal in days, which might also be contributing factors, but mainly it's their relief.

Jack does look different the next time Mac goes to see him. He hasn't woken up yet, but they've extubated him, and Mac thinks he's regained a little colour. This time, Mac refuses to leave again; he wants to wait for Jack to wake up. Thanks to Matty, he's allowed to stay in the end, so he pulls a chair up to the bed and sits down, taking Jack's hand in his again. From his own experience, he knows how comforting it is to have someone holding one's hand, especially when first waking up, but if he's honest with himself, that's not the only reason, of course. He needs this probably more than Jack does.

Jack takes his time coming round. Bozer, Riley and Matty all pop in once, and they all try to convince Mac to take a break, eat and drink something, or even sleep a little, but he doesn't budge. He only leaves Jack's side when the nurses are performing their care or when he's got to use the bathroom, but that's it. He can't even count any more how often Jack did this for him, and apart from that, there's no other place he could be right now; he'd lose it, simple as that, and without Jack to talk him out of it at that.

So he stays, not heeding his own exhaustion, and when Jack finally does open his eyes, Mac's the first person he sees. Jack's groggy and doesn't stay awake long, but Mac knows that he recognized him, and there was some faint pressure on his hand just now. When the hastily summoned nurse arrives, Jack has already dropped off again, but that's alright. She gives Mac a reassuring smile after reading Jack's vitals and checking his blood pressure, and Mac feels like he can finally breathe again.

Jack is allowed to go home ten days later. Mac spent most of the time in the hospital with him; since his partner is incapacitated anyway, Matty took him off the rota and had Riley and Bozer on IT- and repectively lab-duty. That way, they also had time to visit Jack. Who, once he was awake and lucid, sent Mac home for some sleep and threatened to have the nurses sedate him if he refused.

“They wouldn't-” Mac began, but Jack gave him the sternest look he had in his repertoire: “They would if I turn on my _allure_. So please, hoss, do yourself and me a favour- go and get some rest.”

Mac had still been reluctant to go, but in the end, he relented. Admittedly, he was so knackered that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

“Tell me more about the bed,” Jack said dreamily on the following day, when Mac was back with him.

Mac frowned: “What?”

“The bed,” Jack said slowly. “ _Our_ bed. You know, the one with the good mattress and the soft bedding and the lovely, fluffy pillows...”

“ _Oh_ ,” Mac said, catching on. “Jack- you've only been here for six days.”

“Yes, and I've been in hospitals countless times before, and let me tell you something about their bedding: it's bad every time!”

“Do you want me to bring you your own pillow?”

“And have it smell like hospital afterwards? No thanks.”

Mac rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. Jack was still awfully weak, but he tried to hide it by putting on a show, as usual- for Mac's sake.

“We'll air it out then.”

“Fine, if you insist...” Only someone who knew Jack really well would have noticed the subtle relief in his tone.

Mac nodded: “Anything else?”

“Nah, I'm good.” Jack gave him a smile. “Gonna rest my eyes for a bit, 'kay?”

“Course.” Mac smiled back. “Sleep well.”

“How 'bout a goodnight kiss?”

“I think that can be arranged.” Mac leaned over the railing and gently kissed Jack, who sighed: “Love you, hoss,” he muttered.

“Love you too.”

Mac stood by the bed until Jack had fallen asleep. How could he have lived without this?

The first night Jack is home, he sinks into the pillows with a contented sigh after Mac helped him into bed: “This is what I was dreaming about.”

Mac chuckles. Jack reaches for him: “Most important thing I missed was you though,” he says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Mac takes off his socks and slides under the covers with him, hesitating because he doesn't want to cause Jack any pain, but the latter just waves him closer: “C'mere, darlin', I can take your featherweight.”

Snorting, Mac crawls into his arms: “I'm not a featherweight.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jack presses his nose into his hair. “And you smell good. Hmm...”

Mac just nestles against him, still cautious, and feels a lot of the tension in his body seep away as Jack's arms tighten around him, as he smells his scent and feels his warmth.

“You smell good too,” he mutters.

“I smell of hospital.”

“A little. Underneath it's just you though.”

Jack smiles into Mac's hair.

“I'm so glad you're home,” Mac says, lifting his head and looking at his partner, and from the way he frowns, the subtext is clear as day: _I don't know what I'd done if I had lost you._

“Darlin',” Jack replies softly, carding his hand through Mac's hair, then, tenderly, he strokes Mac's cheek with the back of his fingers. “I'm sorry you had to go through all this.”

“I'm not the one who's injured.” _And nearly died_.

“No, but the one who's by the injured person's side usually bears the brunt.”

Mac nods, his eyes glistening all of a sudden, and Jack just pulls him closer again, tucking Mac's head under his chin, and holds him: “I'm still here though,” he murmurs. “And I ain't going nowhere if I can help it.”

“I know,” Mac whispers, sounding choked. “I'm holding you to that, Jack.”

“Good.” Jack's tone is tender. “We Daltons tend to keep our promises, you know?”

“Yeah.” Despite himself, Mac smiles a little; Jack can feel it. They're going to be alright; it will probably take a while until the aftershocks have died down, it always does, but eventually, they'll be fine.

For now though, they hold on to each other tightly until they fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point in the series, Jack says to Mac: "As long as you got me around, you got family. And I ain't going nowhere." I don't remember which episode, but that's where the chapter title is coming from.


	9. The Weather Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Jack in a cabin in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it were, this is a sequel to my story "There Is Just One Thing I Need" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245696).

The first hues of the early morning filled the room, softening edges and bathing everything in diffuse blueish tinges. Mac sleepily looked around, watching the light change gradually; he didn't know what had woken him, but he didn't mind either. He was warm and snug in Jack's arms and the incredibly comfortable bed. His partner was still fast asleep, snoring softly against Mac's neck. It was peaceful and quiet, made even more so by the falling snow outside; Mac could see the flakes through a narrow gap in the curtains.

Jack and he had been outside a lot during the past days, enjoying their time off. They went hiking through the woods and sledding, sat outside in front of the cabin at night with some hot chocolate, looking at the stars until it became too cold, or just lay on the large couch in front of the even larger fireplace reading or listening to some music or dozing.

It was perfect, really, and Mac hadn't even realized how badly he needed a change of scenery. After everything that had happened recently, it'd have felt selfish to just take time off and go on a vacation, but now that they were here, he had to admit that he was enjoying it. Of course, a large part of that was due to the fact that Jack was there with him, but he had noticed, after a few days, how he didn't immediately feel that already familiar sense of dread descending on him as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning anymore. It had still been there even after Jack's return, though admittedly, the latter had made it easier to bear.

But now, far away from L.A. and all the drama of the past months, he was finally able to put some emotional distance between himself and everything that had happened as well, and it was doing him good.

A subtle change in Jack's breathing and the sudden absence of his chirping snores told Mac that the other was waking up as well; a moment later, he could hear a yawn, then Jack stretched, subsequently nuzzling Mac's neck: “Mornin',” he said softly, running a gentle hand over Mac's belly and pulling him even closer.

Mac smiled; Jack's stubble was tickling his jaw, making him shiver delicately: “Morning,” he replied, his voice gravelly. For a moment, they just stayed like that, snuggled up against one another, then Mac slowly turned around in Jack's arms, wanting to be able to look at him.

Jack smiled at Mac, his eyes full of warmth and affection: “There you are,” he said softly, and they kissed, gently and unhurriedly.

“I love this,” Mac muttered softly. “Waking up with you like this...”

“Yeah?” Jack regarded him tenderly. “Well... Same here, darlin'.”

Mac snaked his arm around Jack's waist: “Love _you_ ,” he said softly, nestling against the other more tightly. Jack pressed a kiss into his hair: “Love you more,” he replied gravelly, overwhelmed by the multitude of emotions Mac sparked in him. With a pleasant shiver, he tightened his hold around Mac, feeling protective and near to bursting with happiness: it felt like he kept falling in love, and he knew what a lucky bastard he was.

They slept some more and got up rather late. Since they had been out hiking on snow shoes all day on the previous day (that ended with an epic snowball fight) and it was New Year's Eve, they decided to take things slow. While Mac lit a fire in the fireplace, Jack made coffee and toasted some bagels.

For breakfast, they snuggled up in the window seat, still in their sleep things; from there, they had a spectacular view of the snow-covered forest; the cabin was built on gently sloping terrain.

“This feels deliciously decadent.” Jack sounded pleased as he dipped a piece of bagel into his coffee.

Mac nodded, looking out over the sea of white: “Yeah... When I was a kid, I thought vacation meant camping Harry Jackson style. I had no idea there were other options that included sleeping in a real bed and...being so comfortable.”

Jack regarded him: “You _love_ camping and having to get by with whatever you find.”

“I do.” Mac grinned. “I could get used to this though.”

“Is what you're sayin' now, when you know that we've only got ten days to enjoy this. I bet you'd get bored and restless after three weeks, tops.”

“Maybe,” Mac conceded.

Jack smiled, nudging his foot with his own: “Doesn't mean we can't indulge ourselves for a bit every now and then, right?”

Mac put down his mug and crawled over to Jack's side and into his arms, mindful of his coffee: “Like this?” he sighed contentedly.

“Yeah,” Jack said, a smile slowly spreading on his face as he quickly lifted his mug out of harm's way and folded his other arm around his partner: “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just needed romance and fluff and the boys being sleepy and cuddly right now. In other words: welcome to denial central! #JackDaltonLives


	10. Headache + Birthday + Swiss Army Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's always Jack's first priority, no matter what...

Mac was fast asleep. The only part of him that was visible were a few strands of hair and the upper half of his face.

Jack was sitting on the bed next to him and just looked at him, helpless adoration and concern written on his face in equal parts. In fact, it was rather difficult to contain himself right then, because he'd have loved to crawl under the covers and snuggle up with Mac, protecting him by holding him close.

As it was, Mac had had a bad headache bordering on a migraine for most of the past night and needed uninterrupted sleep; he had been so worn out that his skin had looked almost translucent earlier, making him seem eerily fragile. Which he was, to a degree, if not physically, and most of the time, he hid it well.

Compartmentalizing masterfully, Jack thought. There were occasions on which it showed, however, on which the weight of the baggage Mac was carrying around became so much that it almost crushed him, for example when he was exhausted and at the end of his tether. Or when something went wrong on the job and Mac blamed himself, which he tended to do.

Sometimes though it was a simple headache that made him feel defeated and weak. Although. Strictly speaking, nothing about Mac's headaches was simple; they were severe and incapacitating, and Jack had taken to always have some medication on his person just in case. If taken early enough, it could stave off the worst, if not prevent it from happening altogether.

This one had started on the way back from a mission; Mac and Jack had sat down opposite each other on the jet, both of them leaning back and closing their eyes, but Mac kept shifting in his seat, and his face had a pinched look even while he tried to sleep. Jack knew that look, and he knew that they were already past the point where Mac's pills would make all the difference; now, they'd just take the edge off.

Slowly, he got to his feet, putting a hand on Mac's shoulder: “Anything you wanna tell me?”

Mac squinted at him; even the dim light on the plane was unpleasant in his eyes. “Started back in that warehouse,” he muttered contritely. “Sorry.”

Jack shook his head, sparing them a lecture; Mac knew full well what he was going to say, and it was too late now anyway.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll go and get you a cloth, and then we'll relocate to the couch, okay?”

Meekly, Mac indicated a nod.

In the small bathroom, Jack took one of the hand towels and wetted it, then he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and returned to his partner, sitting down on the couch. Mac joined him, his movements measured.

Jack handed him one of the pills and the water, then put a pillow behind his own back.

“Put your feet up, hm?” he muttered.

“You wanted to sleep-”

“I'll be fine. C'mon, just relax. I've got you.”

Mac did as he was told, leaning back against Jack with a grateful sigh. Jack put one arm around him and covered Mac's eyes with the cloth, nosing at his hair: “This okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Mac's voice was barely audible now. Gradually, a little of the tension seeped out of him, but Jack could tell that it was still pretty bad. So he just held Mac, hoping to provide at least a little comfort.

Once they touched down, Jack called Matty and informed her that they were going straight home, and why. Mac was ghastly pale by then, his eyes mere slits.

He didn't find much rest that night, since the pain kept flaring up; when he took another pill in a desperate attempt to find some relief, it came right back up a few minutes later. Which wasn't really surprising, considering that he hadn't eaten anything prior to that.

Jack stayed up with him, of course, because there was no way he'd just leave Mac to his own devices, and he made sure that Mac drank some water mixed with ginger ale in between, which fortunately did stay down.

Mac only fell asleep properly in the early hours of the morning when the pain finally lessened, and Jack wrapped his arm around him and slept as well.

He woke up around eight thirty, bleary and disoriented for a moment, but Mac was completely out of it. So Jack got up and made some coffee which he drank in the kitchen; it was his birthday, and he'd already gotten a few messages with congratulations and queries about how Mac was doing. Riley, considerate as ever, texted him to call her when it was convenient, so he did.

“Happy birthday, big guy,” she said warmly. “Many happy returns!”

“Thank you, honey.” Jack smiled even though Riley couldn't see him.

“Are you guys okay?” she then asked.

Jack told her what had transpired, and Riley sighed: “Poor Mac. I just hope he managed to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So I guess we're not coming over later?”

“Oh, I don't know. I'll let you know how things are going, okay?”

“Okay.”

After they had ended the call, Jack returned to the bedroom to keep vigil.

Mac woke up two hours later. Jack had in the meantime slid down and was stretched out next to him, dozing.

Slowly, Mac blinked; he felt sluggish and still tired, but the headache was gone. The aftermath was palpable as soon as he moved, kind of like a hangover: his body felt brittle, as if it might shatter if he wasn't careful. He knew that this was eventually going to change after a shower and once he'd moved around for a bit though.

Slowly, he pushed the comforter away from his face and only now consciously noticed Jack next to him. Who stirred when he felt Mac's moving, and began to blink. “Oh, hey,” he said softly when he saw that Mac was awake.

“You feelin' better?”

“Yeah,” Mac's voice was still rough from sleep. With measured movements, he pushed himself up on his arms and into a sitting position, looking bleary and dishevelled. “I really need a shower.”

Jack sat up as well, regarding him: Mac was still pale, but he had lost that tightness around his eyes. He turned towards his partner now: “Wanna join me?”

“Probably a good idea. It's been a while.” Jack grinned. Mac sighed: “At least we didn't fall into a swamp this time.”

“Oh yeah, that was nasty.”

The shower felt wonderful. Mac was glad about Jack's presence though: he was a little shaky, which was to be expected considering he hadn't eaten anything on the previous day, and it was a relief to just lean back against Jack's chest for a while and let the hot water revive him. Apart from the fact that it was always lovely to be showering together, no matter if was just out of necessity or for pleasure.

Afterwards, they sat down at the kitchen counter; while Mac was hungry, he didn't particularly feel like eating yet. Jack didn't take no for an answer though; he made a few pieces of toast with just enough salted butter to make it interesting, and a ginger tea for Mac, and it actually was okay after the first bite.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Mac asked Jack, who was pouring himself another coffee.

“More than on some missions,” Jack replied. “Don't worry about it.” He did look a little drawn now however, and Mac felt guilty.

“We got the next few days off,” Jack added. “So we can catch up some.”

Mac nodded: “Thanks,” he then murmured, reaching for Jack's hand without looking at him. Jack took Mac's and squeezed it: “No need to thank me for that,” he said with a small, tender smile.

Mac smiled a little as well, a fine blush creeping up his neck, and Jack wondered if he'd ever stop being shy about things like these.

“There's something I need you to do though,” he then said.

“What?”

“I want you to talk to Dr. Sinderby, maybe have him check you out again. And you need some more effective pain killers.”

“I don't know,” Mac hedged. “I've tried stronger ones and I didn't like them; they are slowing me down.”

“There must be something else,” Jack insisted. “Something which doesn't make you feel muzzy but still works. Or maybe the reason for your headaches is an entirely different one and we've been looking at it from the wrong angle. Could be your neck that's causing them, for example.”

Mac shrugged.

Jack regarded him: “I'll go with you, if you want me to.”

“I know.”

“So?”

Mac knew that Jack wouldn't let the matter rest until he conceded, and admittedly, the thought had crossed his own mind as well, usually after the respective bouts, but then he kept postponing it.

“Fine,” he eventually said. “I'll talk to him.”

“Good.” Jack nodded, feeling relieved: it was terrible to watch Mac being in so much pain that every thoughtless motion had him gasp.

“My mom had them too,” Mac now muttered unexpectedly. “Grandpa said so.”

It was rare for him to talk about his mother, mostly because he didn't remember that much about her.

“Probably also tried to tough it out,” Jack replies softly. “If she's anything like you.”

This elicited a tiny, sad smile.

Jack squeezed Mac's hand that he was still holding: “You okay, darlin'?”

“Yeah.” Mac visibly pulled himself together. He met Jack's gaze, then he paled: “Oh, shit. Jack- it's your birthday!”

“What? No. Is it that time of year again?” The corners of Jack's mouth were quirking up.

Flustered, Mac was already on his feet, looking around the room, before he spun around on his heels: “Wait here.”

“Mac, you don't have to-” Jack broke off. Mac had already disappeared around the corner.

When he returned, he was hiding something behind his back. In his other hand, he was holding a candle which he pushed into the remaining stack of toast, then he fished a lighter out of his pant pocket and lit it.

“Happy Birthday,” he said softly, looking a bit overwhelmed. “I'm so sorry I forgot.”

“C'mere.” Jack smiled, pulling him close: “I'm not complaining,” he said gently, nuzzling Mac's nose with his own. “You didn't choose to get sick, hoss. And even if you forgot my birthday for other reasons, that's still no big deal.”

Mac squirmed a bit: “But it's important to you-”

“Not the end of the world though.”

Finally, Mac sagged against him: “Okay,” he muttered.

For a moment, they just held on to each other, then Jack tried to peer over Mac's shoulder:

“What're you hiding there?”

“Oh,yeah.” Mac straightened up. “At least I didn't forget this.” He handed it to Jack: “Happy Birthday,” he repeated, a small smile now illuminating his expression.

Jack took the present and tore off the paper: “Aw, you got me the Limited Edition Die Hard Anniversary Steelbook? Thanks, that's awesome!”

Mac laughed quietly: “I had to.” He reaches into his pocket again: “I've also got this for you.”

Curious, Jack put the DVD down and unwrapped the second present. It was a Swiss Army Knife, camouflage coloured instead of red. “Wow, darlin',” he said softly. “I feel like you just gave me my first lightsaber."

"Strictly speaking, you'd have to build that yourself-"

"Yeah yeah, stop ruining the moment with technicalities." Jack waved his free hand through the air.

"Sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Jack motioned towards the knife: "You really think I'm ready for this?”

Mac regarded him with a soft smile, shaking his head but quickly aborting the motion: “Course you are,” he replied. "Padawan."

“Atta boy,” Jack said, flashing him a grin before sobering up again: “I love it. Thank you so much, Obi-Wan!” He leaned in for a kiss, and Mac gladly complied.

Later, they went out onto the deck and lay down on a thick insulated blanket, heads on a large pillow, arms around one another.

“The others coming over tonight?” Mac asked sleepily.

Jack shrugged: “Haven't decided yet. I wanted to wait and see how things were.”

“It's your birthday, you shouldn't miss out on anything because of me.”

Tightening his hold around him, Jack pressed a kiss on Mac's temple: “If this is missing out on something, I'm a pretty lucky bastard.”

“You know what I mean,” Mac muttered, but he sounded pleased nevertheless.

“Seriously,” Jack then said. “I don't feel like doing much today. Party'll be as good tomorrow, don't you think?”

“Probably.” Mac turned his face into Jack's shirt. “As long as you're happy with that.”

Jack smiled, stroking Mac's arm with his thumb: yes, he was a lucky bastard because this here, having this amazing person in his arms, was all he needed right then.

“I honestly couldn't be happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there really is a "Limited Edition Die Hard Anniversary Steelbook".


	11. Wrong Hands + Right Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If there is one thing Jack really hates with a passion, it's seeing Mac helpless in the hands of others."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning for sexual harassment/groping, though it's very mild.

If there is one thing Jack really hates with a passion, it's seeing Mac helpless in the hands of others. It's his job to prevent that, but sometimes, things go sideways. Most of the time, Mac admittedly can handle himself, and he's got all kinds of tricks up his sleeves too. It happens, though, and on a scale of one to ten, Jack always thought that the time Murdoc kidnapped Mac and they didn't have any leads was the worst, probably a hundred- not only because it was Murdoc, but because it was all in Jack's head. He had no way of knowing what exactly was happening, and that was just unnerving and horrible.

Right now however, as Jack is being held in a choke hold by a guy that's got to be at least twice his own size while two others have got Mac, it's just as bad. At least Mac seems too out of it to realize what's going on- he's bleeding from a head wound and obviously very dazed and swaying on the spot, his eyes on half-mast. One of his captors is holding him upright just by keeping one hand on his chest and the other between his shoulder blades while the other one is all but feeling him up as he's searching him for weapons, and that in itself is making Jack seething. They're doing it deliberately, of course, because they can tell Jack doesn't like what's happening.

“Too bad we don't have more time,” the one holding Mac says with a smirk, and then he actually leans forward and licks his ear. “I'd really like to get to know this pretty thing a little better.”

“So? We'll just take him with us and dump him later,” the one who's holding Jack says, sounding bored. This does it though; this is more than just riling their captive up and taking momentary advantage of a situation.

For a few seconds, Jack sees pure red. He felt a little shaky and exhausted before, as every single ache in his body and the past sleepless 48 or so hours were making themselves known. Now however, he mobilizes what's left of his energy and manages to jam his elbow into the brute's ribs with enough force to make him gasp. Relentlessly, Jack repeats the motion and is rewarded with a satisfying cracking sound, then, when the grip around his neck and throat loosens, he's got enough wiggle room to pull back and kick the guy's knee, hard.

Before the other two realize what's happening, Jack's got the guy by the scruff of his neck and runs him headfirst into the one who's been pawing Mac just now; they go down in a tangled heap. The other one draws his gun, but Jack's quicker. He pushes Mac out of the way and clocks the idiot, who staggers back with both hands on his face and slides down the wall. Jack kicks his weapon out of reach and quickly secures all three of them with cable binders, then he crouches down next to Mac, who's currently on the ground and unsuccessfully trying to push himself up. His arms are shaking, and his movements are sluggish.

“Hey,” Jack says anxiously and in a rush, “sorry for that, I didn't mean to hurt you further. You okay?” Gently, he grabs Mac and helps him into a sitting position.

“Yeah,” Mac mutters, grateful for Jack's support. It's evident that he's not telling the truth; he's chalk white by now and shivering, and by the time their backup and an ambulance arrive, he's barely conscious anymore.

Sadly, Jack already knows the drill. Mac's sustained a concussion and is being kept in for observation because there's the risk of intracranial hemorrhage. He woke up when the EMTs and later, the staff was trying to rouse him, which is good, but now he's fast asleep, as the mission is taking its toll.

Dr. Sinderby looks from him to Jack: “He needs physical and cognitive rest, and I dare say, the same goes for you, Dalton.”

Jack himself has sustained some painful bruises, a sore neck and a sprained wrist but is otherwise unharmed. Now that the doc mentions it however, the profound lack of sleep is palpable. His eyes do feel terribly gritty by now, but he knows that if he closes them, he'll fall asleep right then and there. Especially since he now knows that Mac's going to be fine; the relief is actually making him tremble.

Dr. Sinderby shakes his head because all the exhausted agent does is to look at him and blink owlishly.

“Why don't you go and change,” he suggests, “and we'll get an extra cot in here for you to crash on?”

“Sounds good, right, Jack?” Riley now says, taking Jack's arm.

Jack nods; as long as he doesn't have to leave Mac for too long, he's okay with it. So he lets himself being led to the nearest bathroom by Riley, who's brought his go-bag from the locker room: “You wanna take a shower?”

“Nah, I'll just wash up.” The truth is that Jack is so tired and shaky he's not sure he'll stay awake long enough. So he uses a washcloth to freshen up and brushes his teeth, which will have to do for now.

By the time they're back in Mac's room, the cot's been brought and made up, and Jack sinks down onto it after one last, long look at Mac, who doesn't even seem to have moved and looks peaceful, his face slack.

“Get some rest,” Riley says, kissing Jack on the forehead.

“Thanks, baby,” he mutters, waving after her, then he lies down, which is heavenly.

Some time later however, he startles out of sleep: “Let go of him!” His heart is hammering in his chest, and it takes a moment for him to understand that they're safe, that no one is touching Mac in an inappropriate way or with dark intentions because the latter is sleeping soundly in the hospital bed next to him. Jack blinks and glances at the clock: he only lay down half an hour ago. This happens sometimes, him dozing off but jerking awake a rather short while later, disoriented and for a moment unable to distinguish between his dream memory and reality, and it's unnerving when it does.

Heavily, because his body feels like it's made of lead, Jack gets to his feet and pads over to Mac's bed, for a moment just taking him in. That thug called him a 'pretty thing', which is degrading no matter if it's referring to a man or a woman, but Jack's real issue here is how Mac appears to outsiders who don't know him. He's beautiful, there's no way around it, and this isn't the first time someone openly leered at him in a way that's making Jack's stomach roll.

It makes him want to protect Mac even more fiercely: not that he's the easy prey one might assume at first glance. This incredible person isn't only smart but a damn good agent, after all, with good instincts. However, he's also kind and decent and downright guileless sometimes, which makes him rather vulnerable. The fact that he's a head-turner, even though he doesn't seem aware of it or think a great deal of his own looks, is easily able to complicate matters. Just like today.

Jack shudders at the notion of those idiots even entertaining the idea they clearly had in mind, and is rather glad that Mac was too out of it to notice what was going on, and that they got out.

He reaches for his partner, gently strokes his cheek with the back of his fingers. His hand is shaking again, maybe from the aftermath of his little nightmare, maybe because he's still so damn tired.

With slightly uncoordinated movements, he climbs onto Mac's bed, lifting the covers: “Who am I kidding?” he mutters. “Not gonna get any sleep over there anyway.”

He shimmies until he's comfortable, and Mac nestles against him without waking up.

When the nurse looks in half an hour later, they are both fast asleep. She hasn't been working at Phoenix Medical long, so she asks Dr. Sinderby whether this is in accordance with hospital policy.

He sighs: “If you can still check MacGyver's vitals that way, just let them be. In my experience, they're both calmer with the other one close by.”

The nurse, Elaine, nods: due to her former job at a veteran's hospital, she's no stranger to PTSD patients, and she figures that secret agents are not so different in many regards, considering how dangerous their job is and the risks they take. So she tries not to wake Agent Dalton as well when she rouses MacGyver to assess his condition. He's a little confused at first but entirely lucid once he's really awake. He doesn't appear very surprised to find his partner with him however; on the contrary, he seems pleased, relieved even.

Once Elaine's left again, Mac nestles more firmly against Jack and closes his eyes again, taking in Jack's scent and listening to his quiet breathing, and falls back asleep in no time.

On the following morning, Mac's still got a lingering headache that can only be dulled so far by the medication he's receiving. When Jack opens his eyes, Mac's already awake.

Jack lifts his head to look at him: “Morning, darlin',” he says, regarding his partner. He can tell how Mac's feeling, so he keeps his voice soft. “How're you doing?”

“Been better,” Mac admits. A small smile plays around his mouth nevertheless: “It'd be worse without you here, though.”

Jack smiles a proud little smile of his own: “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mac lifts his hand to rest his hand on Jack's neck, as if he wants to keep him close. “Always make me feel better. Safer, too.”

Jack leans in for a kiss: “I love you so much,” he mutters, once more shaken by how precious this guy is.

Mac smiles broadly now: “Love you more,” he replies in an equally low voice once Jack's pulled back; he couldn't help but notice that Jack's holding his head a little stiffly. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” Jack rubs a hand over his eyes, wincing when he's reminded of his sprained wrist rather ungently.

Mac's eyes narrow in concern, but Jack reassures him: “Just a sprain. I've gotten out lightly. Look, I'm not even wearing a hospital gown.”

“Lucky you.” Mac sighs.

“You remember anything of what happened yesterday?” Jack then asks.

“Not really.” Mac frowns. “I know that the door was jammed and we had to get in through that window... and then it kinda gets hazy.”

“Yeah, that's when it all went tits up. We got in, and that's where the Three Stooges caught up with us because I ran out of ammo and you couldn't think straight anymore. Hey, no, no need to be looking all guilty. You got whacked pretty good there, the doc actually got excited it's not just a boring old grade I concussion for a change.”

“Har har.”

Jack flashes him a grin: “Anyway,” he then says, “they tried to rough us up, but I managed to get one up on them. So they're now in custody and we're here, in our home away from home.”

Sighing, Mac closes his eyes for a moment: “It'd be funny if it weren't so true,” he mutters.

They are silent for a moment.

“So...,” Mac then says. “What're you _not_ telling me?”

Jack fidgets; he'd rather omit this part, but what if Mac's recollection of the day's events will come back at one point?

He sighs: “They groped you a little while I was busy being choked.”

Mac regards him: “Really? I don't...” He breaks off. It's not actually true, now that he's coming to think of it; there was a hand on his chest applying pressure, the smell of someone's awful cologne, too close, too disgusting... someone _licking his ear_ , eww... and there were other hands, hands that were nothing like the tender touch he associates with Jack; at the time though, it felt like it wasn't really happening to him anyway but rather as if he was looking on from a distance.

Jack easily reads his expression: “Sorry if I brought it all back,” he says very softly.

“It's okay,” Mac says slowly. “It's... it's not as if it didn't happen before...”

Jack's own expression is pained now; he knows this, of course. Mac has been subjected to this kind of harassment in different situations, even before they met. He just wishes it had _never_ happened, not once.

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop it this time,” he mutters.

Mac regards him: “Hey,” he says gently. “No point beating yourself up about it, okay? Nothing happened. Well.” His hands wanders up to his ear.

“Already took care of that,” Jack says. “First thing in the ambulance: I asked for a sterile wipe, believe me.”

This actually elicits a grin, and Jack immediately feels lighter around his heart. It's easy to forget how resilient Mac is, that this is the kid whose mom died when he was five and whose dad left when he was ten. Who left MIT to join the army and save lives. Resilient and courageous; even if this did shake him a little, he's got Jack to help him through it.

“Thanks,” Mac now says. “For telling me.”

Jack smiles at him: they promised not to keep any secrets from one another, which is most difficult when it's situations like these. So far, they did good though.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks.

Mac looks at Jack, the warmth in his beautiful brown eyes, and realizes that he _is_ going to be okay, because it doesn't really matter what those thugs did, even if it was gross; it's already in the past.

What matters is this, his daily reality. Jack's touch, Jack's scent, Jack's closeness. Jack's love.

“Yes,” he therefore says confidently. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just miss Jack so much... I've had a really shitty week at work that's not over yet, and today while I was in line at the grocery store, I thought "I want Jack. Jack is always making things better, he's like a rock, and he's doing it with a smile. I just wanna hug him."  
> Sigh. If anyone sees him, please send him my way.


	12. Argument + Making Up + Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A verbal fight with Jack leaves Mac for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one started as something small and then kinda ran away with me. It's now the longest chapter yet. =)

“- off on your own without telling me where you're going? I thought we agreed that that's a no-go all the way back in the sandbox!”

Riley stops in her tracks. She assumed Jack and Mac already left, since they were all knackered after having just returned from Angola; Matty kept the debriefing short, but Riley still needed to backup the data she had downloaded during their op. Now, she is headed towards the underground parking lot, not expecting to run into what sounds like a argument.

“There wasn't enough time,” Mac now replies tiredly, as if they've been over it before. “The countdown was already running, and if I had stopped for explanations, I wouldn't even have made it to that basement.”

“And you almost got killed.” Jack's voice is quiet now.

“It's only a graze.”

“Not the point! And it doesn't make it better either!”

“But we got out, didn't we?” Mac's tone is getting defensive now. “Nothing really bad happened.”

“Well, let's see- you got shot, but if you think that's okay, then no, nothing bad happened.”

“Jack, what do you want from me? We both know that our job is risky. Sometimes, stuff like this happens-”

“That excuse isn't good enough,” Jack interrupts him, almost shouting now. “It's my job to make sure you _don't_ get shot while you're doing your stuff. If you run off and I can't protect you, that's an unnecessary risk you're taking!”

“We get separated on missions all the time! Why is this suddenly so different?”

Riley knows why: she's seen Jack's face after he came back with Mac in tow, who was injured but alive. Jack looked livid, but there was something else: real fear. At the debriefing, Riley heard what happened: once Mac had been hit, the guy had caught up with him and was about to shoot him again when Jack arrived. A few seconds later, and he'd have been too late, and that's why Jack was so rattled.

“Damn it, Mac,” he now yells, “the difference is that we didn't get separated because of the circumstances, but that you once more didn't even consider your own safety and just vamoosed!”

It's silent for a moment. Riley waits, unaware that her whole body is tense, hoping that Mac won't say something that is going to make it worse.

“This wasn't about me,” Mac eventually says, his voice gravelly. “This was about a whole town, hundreds of people.”

Riley closes her eyes, and as expected, it does get worse.

“Not. The. _Point!_ ” Jack sounds really mad now. “You just don't get it, Mac! _You_ are not supposed to die, regardless of the situation!”

“That's not how it w-” Mac begins after a another moment of stunned silence, but he breaks off, and it sounds as though one of them is walking away, and it seems to be Jack. “Damn it,” Riley can hear him swear as he disappears through the door.

Unsure what to do, she hovers; Mac hasn't seen her yet. She listens: it sounds like Mac is just rooted to the spot as well, and when she peeks around the corner, she can see him standing there, staring at the door through which Jack left, and then his shoulders slump, and he just looks terribly defeated. The poor idiot really doesn't seem to understand what just happened there.

Riley's heart aches for him just as it does for Jack, but for some reason, it seems wrong to interfere. This is something Mac needs to figure out by himself, or, ideally, with Jack's help, once he's calmed down. He knows Mac well enough to be aware that his little bomb nerd sometimes is too guileless for his own good, after all. He'll come 'round, as usual. For Mac's sake, Riley just hopes it's going to be soon. As quietly as she can, she backs away and walks up the stairs again; she'll wait for a moment, give Mac and Jack a head start.

Jack's initial anger is already evaporating by the time he's reached the car. He still feels shaken by the incident, but he knows that this is how Mac ticks, has always known it, and it's one of the many reasons why he loves him, after all. And now he feels guilty for being so hard on him. They're both exhausted and weary, he should have waited and talked to him about the matter another time.

He turns around and heads back up the stairs. There's still light in the war room where he finds Riley, who's typing on her rig: “Oh, hey,” he says, “sorry to interrupt. Have you seen Mac?”

Riley looks up: “I thought he's with you?”

“Yeah, we had a fight and I kinda ran off without him.”

“Sorry,” Riley says with a frown. “Want me to locate his phone?”

Jack hesitates: “No, thanks, honey,” he then says. “I'll find him.”

“'kay. Good luck. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. And you go home too, okay?”

“In a minute.” Riley gives him a smile.

When he's gone, Riley looks after him with warring emotions, but in the end, she thinks she was right in staying out of it.

Mac isn't anywhere at the Phoenix, and he doesn't answer his phone. Cursing under his breath, Jack gets into his car and drives home; maybe Mac took an Uber to get there.

The house is dark as he arrives though, and the front door is locked, the alarm activated.

As a precaution, Jack checks all the rooms and the deck, to no avail. Then he pulls out his phone once more and writes a text: _I'm sorry. Please come home_.

When Mac still hasn't answered two hours later, Jack is starting to get nervous. So he does call Riley and ask her to locate Mac's phone after all.

“On it,” she says, and he can hear her type. “Got it,” she says only half a minute later. “He's... at the Phoenix.”

Jack frowns: “I thought I'd looked everywhere...”

“Maybe he went for a walk and then came back.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I... I'll go and check.”

“I'll send you the link. Let me know if you found him.”

“Yeah. Thanks, honey.” Jack's already out of the door.

Once Jack has left, Mac feels stupid. He gets that Jack's angry, and why, but he still doesn't know how he could have done things differently. Jack was at the other end of a rather long corridor when Mac realized what he needed to do and why he needed to be quick. Their comms had just fritzed out, there wasn't any cell reception either and shouting was not an option. If Mac had gone to tell Jack first, he'd have lost too much time, time they didn't have. So he just went and did his thing, and it had almost been too late already. And yes, he'd have been killed if Jack hadn't caught up with him in time, but at least the device had been rendered harmless.

Mac feels his exhaustion bearing down on him like a blanket of lead now, and he is close to tears too; it keeps happening to him, this... inability of doing the right thing. Somehow, he always manages to disappoint someone and drive them away.

He wants to go home and crawl into bed. Or rather, into Jack's arms, if he is honest with himself. But he's ruined that by doing what he did. Apart from that, Jack made it very clear just now that he needs to be alone, and Mac doesn't feel up to more arguing.

He's trembling from fatigue, and the wound, a graze just below the ribs on his left side, is making itself known as well now. So he slowly turns around, not walking up the stairs but heading towards the gym. There, in one of the showers, he lowers himself onto the ground and leans against the wall; when Jack is this mad at him, the whole world seems off kilter, especially when Mac knows that Jack's right and the whole mess is Mac's own fault. He's never left Mac like that though, and the notion is like a fist in his gut: what if Jack doesn't find it in him to come back?

Trembling more severely now, Mac huddles in on himself.

He hears the door opening a while later, and footsteps that sound as though someone is looking around the locker area, but they soon retreat again. Probably someone just picking up something they forgot.

Relieved, Mac sags: he needs a reprieve. The past few days have been hectic and difficult, and he can barely think straight anymore. Dejectedly, he leans his face against the cool tiles and closes his eyes.

Jack follows the signal and is surprised when it doesn't lead him to the labs, where he half expected Mac to be; it comes from the gym instead. He did look in there earlier, although... He mutters a few expletives under his breath as realization is dawning on him. He didn't look in the showers, and that's where he indeed finds Mac. He's made himself small and appears asleep, arms pressed against his ribcage, his hands in loose fists against his chest. He looks terrible: his face is pale and drawn, and there are dark shadows beneath his eyes. All of it makes him appear fragile, and it's hard to bear.

Putting the phone away, Jack crouches down in front of him and lays a gentle hand on Mac's knee: “Hey, hoss,” he says, keeping his voice low in order not to startle the other. Mac jerks a little nevertheless, then he blinks at Jack, obviously confused for a moment.

“Jack?” he then asks in a thin voice, lifting his head; for a moment, he looks at his partner as if he's seeing an apparition, as if he can't believe that he's really there. Jack's heart constricts.

“I'm so sorry, darlin',” he says softly. “I was a jerk earlier. I shouldn't have laid into you like I did.”

As Mac looks at him, his eyes are visibly filling up: “You were right though,” he whispers. “I just didn't know what else to do. I didn't mean to be reckless.”

“I know,” Jack sounds tender now and also a little watery. “It was a really shitty situation, and it aint't your fault things went sideways.” He reaches up and cups Mac's cheek with his hand, a warm, reassuring touch: “I overreacted a little, huh?”

At that, Mac's expression becomes distraught: “No... you were right. I screwed up.”

Jack shakes his head: “No,” he then says gravelly. “You didn't, _I_ did, and I was wrong. Which is why I behaved like an ass and made you disappear instead of coming home.” He draws a shuddering breath. “I'm so sorry, baby.”

Mac still looks miserable and not quite convinced.

“Mac?” Jack's concern ratchets up a few notches.

Instead of an answer, Mac scoots towards him, and a moment later, he's in Jack's arms. Relieved and shaking, Jack holds him tightly.

“I'm sorry too,” Mac murmurs, “I know you got scared.”

Jack presses a kiss on his temple: Mac's skin is cold. “Still. It's not okay that I just left you standing there. I turned around once I was at the car, but you were already gone. Should've looked more carefully.”

“Sorry,” Mac repeats softly.

“No, _I'm_ sorry,” Jack insists. “For treating you like this.” He hesitates for a moment: “So... what're you doing, hiding here in the showers?”

Mac doesn't answer right away, but Jack can feel that he's trembling, and suddenly, he understands. He turned around and left, and no matter how old Mac is now and how long ago it's been, that's still triggering for him.

“God, I'm such an idiot,” Jack groans, pulling Mac even closer, “I'm sorry, Mac. I'm really sorry. You know I'd never just leave you like that, don't you?”

Mac's too shaken to speak, but he wraps his arms around Jack as firmly as he can, hoping that it'll be enough. There are tears running down his face now, he can't help it; Jack doesn't seem to mind though.

“I love you so much, baby,” he now mutters into Mac's hair. “So much, you got no idea.” The relief makes Mac sob. Jack holds him until his tears abate, and afterwards, Mac's boneless with exhaustion.

“Come on,” Jack says gently, “let's go home.”

That night, once Mac's fallen asleep, Jack lies awake for a long time, still feeling too agitated to relax. Mac and he have been close for a long time now, and so far, their relationship was a steady one. They rarely fight, and what happened today feels like it was blown out of proportion.

He'd like to chalk it down to their weariness, but that'd be too easy. For one, he did overreact. Yes, his heart almost stopped when he arrived in that basement and found one of the goons standing over Mac, who was bleeding, with his weapon trained at his head. Still; he should still have listened to Mac's reason for just taking off like that. And secondly, he shouldn't have walked away from Mac. Not like that. He should have known better.

He's just grateful that nothing worse happened, and that Mac apparently forgave him. He's not sure how deep a mark it's going to leave though, and he just hopes that Mac still trusts him as he did before. The kid needs someone he knows he can rely on, and he needs to know that Jack doesn't love him any less just because they had a disagreement.

Mac usually is much more self-confident, wouldn't have taken Jack's anger-induced blunder so much to heart if everything was alright, but the recent events with his dad and Codex have thrown him severely, and it's showing not only in the loss of weight which technically, he can't really afford, or a large number of sleepless nights when his reeling mind won't let him rest, but also in things like these.

The fact that he was hiding somewhere instead of confronting Jack, as he'd normally have done, is only emphasizing his currently even increased vulnerability.

Jack thinks of Mac's slender fingers and the almost translucent skin around his eyes, of how he squares his shoulders when he's facing something difficult, a narrow figure, and of the way he looks when he's figuring something out under pressure and isn't certain it'll work, and he feels his heart swelling with love and the wish to protect this wonderful, precious person. He wants Mac to feel safe and secure at all times. He's already got an idea how to achieve that, but he'll have to wait for the right moment to bring it up. And it requires a surprising amount of courage, too.

With a sigh, Jack closes his eyes, gently stroking his thumb over Mac's arm, pondering the matter until he finally dozes off.

On the following morning, Mac's already up and in the bathroom when Jack opens his eyes. He can hear the water running, so he dawdles for a few minutes, taking his time to fully wake up.

Mac comes out of the bathroom fully dressed, but he still looks pale.

“Hey,” Jack says, reaching for him with one arm, and to his relief, Mac takes his hand and allows himself to be drawn close. He sits down on the mattress while Jack sits up: “Mornin'. How're you feelin'?” He glances at Mac's side.

“It's okay,” Mac replies in reference to his wound, his voice quiet. He seems a little wary as he regards Jack now, so Jack sits up straighter, pulling Mac's hand close and pressing a kiss on it: “We good?” he asks gently.

Mac's expression softens: “Course,” he says barely audible.

Jack is relieved: “Really? Cause I feel like I've gotta make amends.”

“You don't.” Mac seems much more together this morning. “We were both tired, we didn't handle the situation well...”

Jack's face is serious and a little pained now. “I know. And I meant what I said, Mac. I'm awfully sorry for just walking away from you, that was the worst thing I could have done.”

Mac averts his gaze at that, but he doesn't pull his hand away.

“Mac,” Jack continues. “Just because we had a fight, that doesn't change anything between us. You know that, right?”

Hesitantly, Mac nods. “I know.”

“Good. And we're allowed to have different opinions. Groovy kind of love, remember? _T_ _his bond between us, can't be broken, I will be here..._ ”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Mac exhales slowly: “I remember,” he says shakily. “Jack- I'm really sorry about what happened in Angola.”

Jack raises his free hand and cups Mac's cheek: “It's okay,” he says softly. “Stop apologizing, will you? It's just like you said: we got out, after all. That's gotta be good enough.”

Mac's eyes are shining: “I'll probably do something stupid like that again at one point. I can't help it!”

Jack smiles: “I guess we'll just have to deal with it. And no stupid fighting afterwards, promise.”

Quietly, Mac gasps out a small laugh, turning his head into Jack's touch.

Jack strokes his cheek with his thumb: “I think I love you more every day, darlin',” he says softly. “Nothing could ever change that.” He ducks his head: “So... If I do something stupid like yesterday again, will you still put up with me?”

“ _Put up_?” Mac repeats very quietly. “You're my rock.”

Jack regards him almost timidly now: “I hope I still am,” he replies seriously.

“Jack,” Mac whispers, reaching for him, “I wouldn't even know what to do without you.”

Jack closes his eyes, his arms around Mac, and vows to never hurt this guy again. “Same here,” he whispers. It's ironic that this actually is the reason why he reacted as he did, and he knows that Mac's probably aware of it.

“I've never been good at relationships,” Jack therefore mutters once they've pulled back a while later, “as my track record shows. But this one here... I don't wanna mess this up, it's too important.”

“Me neither,” Mac says, sounding choked. “I love you, Jack. I know you'd not just take off like that, it just... rattled me yesterday.”

Jack inclines his head: “It's what people in serious relationships do, right? Arguing, I mean?”

“I suppose.”

“Yeah. I don't like it.”

“Nor do I.” A tiny smile quirks up the corners of Mac's mouth.

They are silent for a moment, and Jack realizes that this is the moment he's been waiting for. He takes a deep breath, feeling shaky all of a sudden:

“You know what else people in serious relationships do?”

“Get a dog?”

Jack blinks: “Er... yeah, that's not what I meant. Let's circle back to that later though.”

“Buy a car?”

“We've got a car. Well, three."

“Go on a cruise?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Buy a house?”

“ _Buy_ \- c'mon, man, you're killing me here!”

“Well, I'm out of ideas. What else do people in serious relationships do?”

A mischievous little smile spreads on Jack's face: “Marry,” he says softly. “They get married.”

Mac stares at him speechlessly.

Jack ducks his head: “I'm not joking, in case you're wondering,” he says.

Mac blinks, shaking his head: “You... did you just... propose?”

“Kinda,” Jack says giddily.

"When you said you felt like you'd have to make amends-"

Jack shakes his head: " _Not_ what I meant. I assure you that this doesn't have anything to do with it."

Mac only blinks again, trying to wrap his head around what's happening.

"Wait here, 'kay?” Jack gets up and opens his sock drawer.

After a bit of rummaging, he pulls something out of it: it's a small jewel case, and he takes a ring out of it as he sits down again. “Just so you know it's not exactly a spur of the moment thing,” he says softly, and his hands are shaking a little. “I've been meaning to do this for some time now... I only wanted to wait for a perfect moment.”

He looks up at Mac, his eyes glazed now: “Maybe this isn't perfect, but it still feels right, and... it turns out that I just don't wanna wait any longer, baby.”

Mac's eyes are moist now, and he's shaking as well.

“So,” Jack lowers himself down on his knee in front of him. “I'll just get on with it.” His smile is tender: “Angus MacGyver, will you marry me?”

Mac's voice is choked, but his answer is unmistakable: “ _Yes_ ,” he says softly; he doesn't have to think about it, after all. “Yes, of course.”

Tears are running down Jack's face as he puts the ring on Mac's finger, and they are both laughing and crying as Jack now kisses Mac: “You're making me so happy,” he whispers. “I just wanna make _you_ happy.”

“You are,” Mac breathes, his hands on Jack's face. “And you have been all this time.”

Jack smiles: “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mac regards him soberly. “In all the darkness, it's what kept me sane.”

Blinking, Jack wipes his eyes with the back of one hand: “I'm glad,” he whispers, his voice unsteady. “But it's what you're doing for me too, darlin'. With you around, I feel like I can breathe easier.”

There was a time when Mac wouldn't have thought something like this possible, when it felt like the only person who'd stick with him no matter what was Bozer. Jack's the first one who made him feel loved as unconditionally, but it still astonishes him sometimes that he now is a significant other to someone, that what he has to give seems actually enough. It's humbling and elating at the same time.

For a moment, they just look at one another with slightly dazed expressions, then Jack pulls Mac close once more: “It's still early. How 'bout some post-proposal cuddling?”

Laughing softly, Mac allows himself to be tugged further onto the bed and into Jack's arms: “Nothing I'd like better.”


	13. Close call + close quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And_ we're in the hospital again. Don't ask _me_ how that happened...

Jack ran a hand over his tired eyes, glad that it wasn't shaking anymore.

For two days, he hadn't been able to think straight, and his hands had seemed to be trembling all the time. He was a trained sniper, his hands never failed him on the job, but this time, it was too close to home. It had been two long, agonizing days during which Mac had been trapped under the remains of a collapsed building; they hadn't even been able to locate him at first, and when they did, it took them far too long to get him out, and no one was sure what shape he was in or whether he was still alive at all, because there was no way of communication.

They had tried Morse code but hadn't gotten a response, and from that moment on, Jack had been close to hyperventilating. Later, it turned out that Mac simply didn't have any means to produce the required sounds by banging something against any kind of metal, because he was trapped in a confined space and had nothing but concrete around him.

It had been close, and when they finally got him out, he was barely conscious anymore because the oxygen had almost been used up.

It had been a terrible sight when they hauled him up because he looked so pallid and lifeless that Jack really thought they were too late, but miraculously, Mac was still breathing, a little banged up but not even badly injured apart from a broken arm and various scrapes and bruises. It could have been so much worse.

And now they were in Phoenix Medical, Mac had been patched up and was currently receiving fluids and an antibiotic through an IV to treat the dehydration and prevent a bacterial lung infection because he had inhaled so much dust; he was exhausted and kept coughing, but he was still too wired to sleep. The fact that he was wearing an oxygen mask wasn't exactly helping with that; ever since El Noche, those were making him nervous.

With his good hand, he kept a firm grip on Jack's; the latter was exhausted after what they'd just been through, but he wouldn't dream of leaving. He had pulled the chair he was sitting in as close to the bed as possible, holding Mac's hand and gently carding the fingers of the other through his partner's hair, which was still full of fine dust. Mac's eyes were red-rimmed from the dust as well, which only served to emphasize how worn out he appeared.

“Try to sleep, baby,” Jack said softly. “You're knackered. I'll stay here with you.”

Mac regarded him tiredly: “You need sleep too,” he muttered.

“I'll be fine.” Jack gave him a tender smile: “Now that I've got you back.”

With a small hum, Mac finally closed his eyes. Jack felt himself nodding off as well, but a short while later, he was startled when Mac jerked violently and opened his eyes with a pained gasp.

“Hey, hey,” Jack muttered, immediately awake. “Everything's okay, you're safe.”

Mac stared at him, chest heaving, until he realized that it had only been a dream; his eyes were watering because he had jostled his arm.

Jack got to his feet and leaned over Mac so that he could stroke his cheek: “You need some more painkillers, darlin'?” he asked.

“No, 's alright,” Mac muttered, trying to breathe evenly; he wasn't aware of how tightly he was gripping Jack's hand.

“Just breathe, baby,” Jack said calmly. “Nice and slow, that's it...”

Gratefully, Mac focused on his voice, on his grounding presence. Jack's gentle touch and his scent were a welcome anchor to the present; for 51 hours, Mac had been trapped in suffocating darkness, unable to help himself.

He lost all sense of time at one point and didn't really expect to ever get out of there because he couldn't even make some noise, give any indication where he was. His entire body was aching because of the bruises and the somewhat contorted position he was in; every movement made fresh pain shoot through his arm, and his throat and his eyes were dry and feeling raw from all the dust.

The thirst had been terrible, but even worse were those moments when the debris around him suddenly moved, often accompanied by an ominous groaning sound; it was all the weight that was bearing down on the rubble, and Mac only hoped that the blocks around him would hold, otherwise he'd face slowly being crushed to death.

He kept thinking of his Phoenix family, of Bozer's parents and Frankie, but most of all, he thought of Jack. Jack, who'd be devastated if it came to the worst, and whom Mac wanted badly, down there in the dark and in all the pain and fear; Jack meant safety and warmth and love. The notion that Mac'd never see him again if he died down there was unbearable, and quite a few times, Mac was close to panicking. But he managed to force it down every time by conjuring up other, mostly haptic memories of his partner.

Of being entangled with Jack as they were falling asleep; of snuggling up on the couch for a movie; of just sitting next to one another, arms and knees touching, talking until late; of Jack waking him with a kiss, a smile on his face and in his warm brown eyes; of pressing his nose against Jack's skin to inhale his scent and feeling himself calming down.

He tugged at Jack's hand now: “Come closer?” he muttered. He was sure that there was only one way to prevent further nightmares.

As if he had read his partner's mind, Jack smiled: “You want me to crawl in with you?”

Mac averted his eyes for a moment, but his entire demeanour telegraphed that yes, he wanted that very much.

“Not sure the staff is gonna like this,” Jack muttered as he climbed onto the bed; Mac scooted sideways to make room, and Jack lifted his arm so that Mac could nestle against him. With a relieved sigh, Mac rested his head on Jack's shoulder, and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep again.

He only woke up with a wildly beating heart once during that night, but it wasn't as bad as before, and when he realized that Jack was there, he quickly calmed down again.

On the following morning, Jack woke up a little achy from lying in pretty much the same position for so long, but seeing that Mac had slept rather well totally made up for it in his book.

“I need a shower,” Mac said later, after breakfast.

“You really think you're up to it?” Jack asked doubtfully; Mac had just been in the bathroom, and while he insisted that he could walk on his own, he had looked rather unsteady on his feet. Accordingly, his relief to be back in bed was obvious. While he was still coughing occasionally as well, the nurse, Elaine, had at least rid him of the oxygen mask for the time being. He had also been taken off the IV, though he was scheduled for another round of antibiotics later on and therefore still had the catheter in his arm.

“No,” Mac admitted, “but everything itches, especially my hair.”

“Your hair's itching?” Jack sounded amused.

“Yes,” Mac said defiantly.

“In that case,” Jack regarded him sympathetically, “I'll go and ask if it's okay.”

“Thanks.” Mac looked relieved.

Twenty minutes later, Jack and Mac were in the adjoining bathroom; Elaine had taken out the IV catheter, put waterproof patches over the more severe abrasions on his hand and his good arm and given Jack a plastic cover for Mac's cast to protect it from getting wet. Now he was helping Mac to get undressed, then he quickly slipped out of his own clothes. It was easiest if he just got in with Mac, and apart from that, he could actually do with a shower as well.

“You wanna sit down?” Jack asked as he turned the water on, motioning towards the plastic chair in the shower stall.

Mac shook his head, and Jack didn't insist. Instead, he gently pulled Mac against him once they had stepped under the spray, his back against Jack's chest. “This okay?” he asked.

Mac hummed affirmatively, glad about the support and, more importantly, the contact. Jack's soft, warm skin against his own was a welcome distraction from the lingering sensation of cold, hard concrete all around him. It had almost been too much when Jack had briefly left his room to go and find Elaine earlier, though Mac had tried not to show how unsettled this had left him. It made him feel slightly ashamed that he needed his partner so badly right now, but there was nothing that he could do about it.

For a while, they just let the warm water wash over them while they enjoyed their closeness, but eventually, Mac's legs began to tremble, and he kept coughing.

“Guess I'll sit down after all,” he muttered, frustration audible in his tone.

Jack pressed a kiss on his neck: “Well, it does make it easier to wash your hair,” he said. “I'll even throw in a free head massage. You up to take care of the rest yourself? Probably best 'cause you know where the more tender spots are right now.”

“Yeah.” Mac smiled faintly; he hated being so physically dependent on someone, but he appreciated how Jack tried to make him feel better. And he admittedly was lucky that he _had_ Jack for these things, so who was he to complain?

Jack squeezed a generous amount of shampoo on his hand and began to spread it on Mac's head evenly, gently massaging his scalp as he did so. It felt so heavenly that Mac forgot all about the shower gel in his hand.

“Good thing you don't got a concussion,” Jack said at one point. “How's the arm doing, by the way? Still dry?”

“I think so.” Mac peered at the plastic cover: it seemed to be working. With a sigh and some reluctance, he opened the shower gel and began to wash himself, mindful of the worst bruises.

When they were done, Jack steadied Mac as he got to his feet and wrapped him in a large towel. Mac dried himself off with one hand and Jack rubbed his hair until it stopped dripping. “Tousled surfer hair totally works for you,” he then said, earning himself an eye-roll.

As soon as they were both dressed, Mac crawled back into bed. Jack brought him another towel to put on his pillow because his hair was still damp; once Mac was lying down again, he felt a little shaky from the exertion.

Jack pulled the covers up around him: “You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes roaming over Mac's pale face.

“Yeah,” Mac breathed, coughing again. “Just knackered. Shower was great though.”

“Good.” Jack gave him a tender smile. “Try'n get some rest, okay?”

Mac reached for him: “You should go home and get some proper sleep,” he said, his voice brittle all of a sudden.

Jack, who knew him well, shook his head: “Ain't gonna happen, darlin',” he said with a wink. “I'll stay right here with you.”

Mac couldn't hide his relief. “Sorry,” he then muttered, feeling selfish. “Guess it'll take a while to wear off.” He meant the suffocating darkness that was still there in the back of his mind. Jack was the light that kept it at bay, it was as simple as that. And Jack was aware of it, fortunately.

He now pulled Mac's good hand up to his mouth and kissed it: “I know,” he simply said. He'd had his own experiences with situations like these, after all. “No worries, hoss. I'm here.”

“If you want to take a break though-”

“Do you still have water in your ears?” Jack smiled at him. “I'm fine here with you. I'm not planning on letting you out of my sight so soon anyway.” Two days had been more than enough.

Mac exhaled shakily; Jack never let go of his hand as he pulled the chair close again and sat down.

When Elaine came in a while later to put in a new IV, Mac was close to dozing off again.

“When can I go home?” he asked once she was done, promptly coughing again.

“Doctor Sinderby is going to be here in a moment, I'm afraid you'll have to ask him,” Elaine said kindly, because she didn't think that MacGyver was going to be released that day.

The good doctor regarded Mac with a stern face once he had examined him: “You're not going anywhere as of yet,” he said. “Your blood pressure is still unsteady and I'd like to keep an eye on your lungs for a little longer.”

Much to Mac's chagrin, he began to cough again right there and then, effectively undermining any attempts to make light of the situation.

“However,” Dr. Sinderby said, his expression softening in sympathy, “if you respond to the medication and your vitals keep improving, we can review the length of your stay tomorrow morning.”

“In that case,” Jack said, “I'd like a more comfy chair.”

The doctor smirked: “I was under the impression that you shared Agent MacGyver's bed last night.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied airily, “but it isn't bed time for a while yet.”

“Fine.” The doctor was unsuccessfully trying to hide his amusement. “I'll see what I can do.”

Once he had left, Mac and Jack looked at one another.

“Sorry you gotta stay,” Jack said, gently stroking Mac's cheek with his thumb. “Though the best thing for you is to sleep anyway, and if all goes well, I'll take you home tomorrow.”

Mac sighed. “It means you've got to stay as well.”

“And I've already told you that it's no problem.” Jack regarded him: “Just so you know- I don't think I could just leave you here right now, even if I wanted to.” An echo of fear was still palpable in his tone just then.

Mac's own eyes darkened for a moment and Jack immediately moved closer to him: “Hey,” he said softly, leaning in for a kiss. “We're okay, huh? We're here, you and me. No one got to go kaboom on their own.”

Mac briefly closes his eyes: “It was close though,” he muttered. “And all the time, I kept thinking of you and how we didn't get a goodbye.” His expression was pained.

Jack nuzzled his nose with his own, his eyes swimming: “Same here,” he whispered because his throat was so tight. “I love you so much, darlin'.”

“I love you too,” Mac replied, sounding equally choked.

It took them a while to regain their composure, and Mac's eyes almost closed of their own account once they did. Jack stayed right there, standing next to the bed, until an orderly came in with a recliner.

“Thanks, man,” Jack said, and after a while, he did sit down in it after removing the other chair and pushing the recliner right up to the bed; Mac didn't stir, he seemed fast asleep by then.

Which was also the reason why he missed his visitors when Riley, Bozer and Matty came by to see how he was doing.

He slept for most of the day, and in the evening, Jack crawled in with him again. Mac pushed his face into Jack's shirt in order to take in the other's scent and released a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

“You know,” Jack said very softly, stroking Mac's hand, “goodbyes may be overrated.”

Mac peered at him: “What do you mean?”

“Just that... one doesn't always get a goodbye. Which is damn hard, but I don't gotta tell you that.” He paused. “Anyway... so if there isn't one for some reason... all the love's still there, right? It doesn't stop or anything just because the person is gone.”

“No,” Mac agreed, his voice gravelly. “It doesn't.”

“Yeah,” Jack said after a moment. “I realize how this is not making things any better. It only did in my head.”

Mac pressed a kiss on his shirt: “Appreciate the effort,” he muttered.

Jack sighed: “Thanks. Just goes to show that we better stick to the system- you're the brains, I'm the brawn. Probably best.”

Mac snorted, sounding amused now: “No point in selling yourself short, big guy,” he then said. “You got a point there. Only... it's just as you said... it's hard to talk about, and even harder when it's actually happening to you.”

“Yeah.” Jack was silent for a while. “So we better not let it happen to us. Ever.”

“Deal.” Mac shimmied a little so that he could nestle against Jack even more tightly.

The latter once more thanked whichever guardian angel had been responsible for Mac's survival.

“Sleep well, darlin',” he said tenderly.

“You too.” Mac sounded drowsy already.

Jack pressed a kiss on the top of his head and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes!


End file.
